


The Full Experience

by nickelmd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Dean, Dom Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Pining, and so much awkward, but for real so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd/pseuds/nickelmd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam arranges a trip to a couple's resort, so Dean can enjoy the beach.</p><p>This fic is plot averse.</p><p>Special thanks to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/110651">bookclub</a> and to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary">Speary</a> for her tireless enthusiasm and willingness to correct 1000 typos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So get this...

“So, get this,” Sam starts, “I found us a case…”

Dean waits for him to go on, but Sam just stands there, hands in his pockets, bouncing on his toes with a shit-eating grin on his face. Dean glances at Cas standing across the table, but he’s no help, waiting patiently as if Sam isn’t purposely fucking with them. Dean sighs, “Ok. Sam. I’ll bite. What case did you find for us?”

Spurred into action by Dean’s manufactured curiosity, Sam folds himself into a chair next to Cas. “Two couples dead. One of the couples stabbed each other to death in the middle of dinner. The other couple drowned each other in shallow water.” 

Sam still looks like the cat who swallowed the canary, but so far Dean doesn’t think much of the case. “Who says the murders aren’t just lovers’ quarrels gone too far?”

“I haven’t told you location.” Sam jumps up out of his seat, and spreads his arms wide to indicate the enormity of what he’s about to say. “The deaths were both this month at one of those couples’ only resorts.” 

“Like…” Dean’s forehead scrunches, “with the champagne glass bathtubs?” 

Sam stills for a moment and frowns at Dean. “No, man. Not that kind. The classy kind. The kind,” he puts both hands down on the table and leans toward Dean, “on a beach.”

Dean leans back in his chair, “Alright, where is it? California? Florida?”

Sam’s face falters for a fraction of a second. “Jamaica.”

“No.” Dean gets up and walks out of the room. He can hear Sam calling after him, but he doesn’t turn around.

He’s not sure where he’s going, but he’s not standing in there with Sam and Cas and arguing about going to fucking Jamaica. He takes the long way around, and ends up in the kitchen pulling a beer out of the refrigerator. Cas comes in as he’s popping off the cap. “I said no.”

“Dean, Sam is trying to do something for you. He said you,” Cas pauses for a moment, “that you mentioned that you wanted to go to a beach.”

“I wanted to go to a beach in the fucking contiguous United States. Jesus, Sam knows I don’t—“ Dean stops abruptly. He swallows before he continues, “I don’t go anywhere I can’t take Baby.” 

Cas tilts his head like the fucking bird he is before asking, “Is this about flying?”

Shit. “No. What the fuck? No. It isn’t. About that. Jamaica’s just not practical man. You’ve got to see that. What if stuff goes down? You know,” he moves the beer in an expansive circle, “around here.”

“Now that I have my grace back, I could easily knock you out for the duration of the flight.”

“Cas, you know you’re not up to full speed, you don’t need to risk your grace for something as stupid as a plane ride.” Cas only shrugs in reply.

“Shit.” Dean takes his beer and walks back into the war room.

* * *

“Let’s assume I get past the…the thing with the…” he makes the vaguest possible movement with his hand to indicate a plane, “how do we do it?” 

“Ok. I’ve already done some research. I’ve got a job lined up as a bartender. I can work while I’m working, you know? Everyone loves to talk to a bartender, right?”

“Fine, sure. Whatever. What about me and Cas?”

“Dean, that’s the best part. You and Cas go as a couple. That way you get to stay in one of those rooms with the fancy tubs, hang out on the beach. I know it’s not exactly a vacation, but it might be as close as we’re going to get.” 

Sam’s still talking, but Dean stops listening. He looks at Cas. Cas’ face is serious as usual, no sign that he’s bothered by Sam’s suggestion. Dean’s bothered. He’s very, very bothered. “Sam, stop.” Sam and Cas both swing around to face him. “That’s not…that’s not gonna happen.” Neither of them speak, waiting for him to go on. He feels ridiculous. He shouldn’t have to explain this to them. He doesn’t even know how to explain this to them. “Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, too complicated? We could just all three get jobs.”

“Look, Dean, half the point of this is for you to get a vacation. This way you can work on the case, but also, you know, enjoy yourself a little bit. And, no offense, but it’s still kinda obvious with any extended exposure that Cas isn’t exactly human.”

Cas bristles at that. Dean’s hoping it might be enough to get Cas on his side. “It isn’t as if I haven’t held a job, Sam. I was a sales associate,” Cas pauses, “and I was good at it.”

Dean pipes in, “He was. I was there. You shoulda seen it, Sammy. No one had any idea an Angel of the Lord was cleaning the slushy machine. He fit right in.”

Cas’ brow furrows, “That’s not entirely true. Nora frequently commented that I was ‘different’ although she didn’t suspect the depth of truth to her words, I’m sure. Besides, I wasn’t an angel at the time, as you may remember.” 

And, yeah, fine, Dean knows it was different, but it’s not like Cas wasn’t still Cas, grace or not. “Come on, Cas, you might not have had your grace, but you were still…the stuff that makes you you, was all still there, and as far as I’m concerned you didn’t stop being an angel.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest, but Sam interrupts, “This is what I’m talking about. You two aren’t going to have any trouble acting like a couple. You’re not even going to have to fake it.”

Dean double takes toward Sam, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“What? I mean, I know you’re not a couple. Obviously. I’m just saying, your” Sam actually makes finger quotes, “‘profound bond’ or whatever. You guys have always been a little intense. It just makes the job easier. No one will even look twice at the middle aged dudes bickering about what to have for dinner, or sunscreen or sharks or whatever the hell you two will find to fight about. You’d better start packing. Our flight’s tomorrow morning.” And like it’s decided, Sam gets up and walks out of the room.

Dean’s so stunned he doesn’t even call after him until it’s too late.

“What the fuck?” Dean turns to Cas for backup.

Cas is looking at him through narrowed eyes. “I can see you’re upset about this, but I don’t understand why.”

Dean sighs. Of course Cas doesn’t understand. Cas may be a hell of a lot more human than he was 7 years ago, but he still doesn’t always get the nuances of human relationships. Dean rubs his hand down his face and gives up. “It’s nothin’. Come on, if you’re gonna pass as a tourist you’re gonna need to borrow some of my clothes.”

* * *

The walk to Dean’s room is quiet. Cas has never been one for chit-chat and Dean feels defensive in a way that is probably overkill for the situation. Looking at it objectively, his brother has made arrangements to work a case specifically because Dean wanted to walk in the sand. The case is going to involve sharing a room with his best friend. The case is also going to involve wearing a swimsuit, probably near said best friend, who will most likely also be wearing a swimsuit. Dean has hardly ever seen Cas out of his trench coat, much less in shorts. Oh, and he’s going to be telling the world his best friend is actually his boyfriend? Husband? Significant other? Dean shakes his head and opens the door. Cas trails in behind him. 

“Ok, I think you’re close enough to my size we can make it work if you use my clothes.”

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with what I’m wearing.”

“You don’t think people at a beachside resort are going to think it’s odd that there is a man on vacation wearing a suit and trench coat on the beach?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t wear the trench coat.”

Dean thinks this might be his breaking point, but when he looks up he sees Cas’ mouth ticking up at one corner. 

“Are you…was that a…joke?” Cas smiles just a bit wider. “Asshole,” Dean mutters, but he feels a little better about the whole damn plan if Cas can actually joke about it.

He reaches under the bed and pulls out two duffle bags. He opens the top drawer of his dresser and rummages through his boxers. He pulls out five pair, carefully at random, and tosses them to Cas. Cas catches one and the rest drop at his feet. Cas bends down to pick up the others, but Dean turns away to sort out shirts. He pulls out two plain gray tees, one black, and an AC/DC shirt for himself. He stares at the remaining t-shirts, but feels incapable of choosing. What kind of t-shirt would Cas wear? Plain tee? Band tee? V-neck? Will Dean’s shirts be too big? Dean feels like he doesn’t know Cas at all. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, suddenly much closer than he was. He’s holding Dean’s boxers balled up in one fist. The other hand is nearly on his shoulder, though he stops, hovering, when Dean looks up at him. “Are you all right?”

“What? Yeah. Of course, man. Just, I don’t know what you like, you know, to wear?” 

“I imagine it would be hard for you to know something about me that I don’t know about myself.” Cas smiles at him.

“I guess no time like the present to learn something new. Have at it. I’d pick out at least 5.” Dean turns away taking the shirts he picked for himself and putting them in the duffle. When he turns around Cas is using one hand to riffle through the drawer, and clutching at the boxers with the other. “Give me those,” Dean says, grabbing them out of Cas’ hand and shoving them in the second duffle. He heads to the closet, figuring they need at least a couple dress shirts between them. He picks them out, rolls them up carefully and distributes them in the duffles. Cas is still standing at the open drawer. His arms hang loosely at his sides. He looks like he’s trying to pick out shirts using telekinesis. 

“Come on, Cas. Just pick a couple.”

“How am I supposed to choose?”

“It’s not rocket science, just pick what looks good to you, or what looks good on you.”

“I’ve never thought about what might look good on me.”

“I think there’s a navy t-shirt I’ve never worn in there. It’s probably at the bottom. Take that one. It’ll probably look good.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you wear a navy suit. That looks alright. Probably because of your eyes.”

“What do my eyes have to do with anything.”

“Jesus, Cas. Your eyes are blue, dude. Navy is blue. It, like, picks up the color or some shit.”

Cas reaches into the drawer and pulls out the t-shirt in question. Next he pulls out a Metallica shirt, then 2 plain whites, and a green Star Wars shirt Charlie brought him that says “Camp Endor, Outer Rim.” Cas holds up the final shirt and says, “I’ve never seen you wear this.”

Dean bites back a _maybe you should stick around for more than 12 hours at a time_ and shrugs instead.

“I think it would look good on you.” 

Dean can feel the tips of his ears heating up. He wants to protest that that’s not the kind of thing you say to another dude, but it seems particularly hypocritical since he started it. “Yeah, well, I’ve already picked out my shirts. You take it.”

They end up packing a pair of jeans and sweatpants each, but Dean doesn’t own any shorts. They’ll probably spend their days in swimsuits anyway, but Dean also doesn’t own any of those. Dean hopes whatever fraudulent means Sam is using to pay for this trip includes a trip to the resort gift shop.

They can do this. He can do this. As long as he doesn’t think too much about the flight.

* * *

The morning comes faster than Dean would like. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, carefully at first and then pressing hard with the heels of his palms. Why didn’t he just say no? He’s a grown man, he doesn’t have to go along with it just because Sam’s got some stupid plan. It’s not too late. He could just refuse. He should just refuse. He drops his hands from his eyes with a loud sigh. He shuffles out of his room, intent on getting a cup of coffee before he deals with this crap, and walks directly into Cas.

Cas looks…different. They stand in the hallway, still too close from having collided. Dean’s mouth is hanging open a little as he looks at Cas. The first thing he notices is that Cas isn’t wearing his trench coat. The second is that he’s not wearing shoes, just black dress socks with gold toes. After that, the realizations come all at once. He’s wearing a rumpled white t-shirt. He’s still wearing his navy slacks, but they look rumpled too. Cas’ hair is a mess, sticking up at his forehead and in the back. Dean’s brain unhelpfully supplies the description “sex hair.” “Cas, you look,” he stops and tries again, “What…?” Dean grunts in frustration, not even sure what he’s trying to ask.

Cas sighs and rubs his hand through his hair. He splays his fingers as he runs his hand from his forehead to the nape of his neck. Dean is distracted by the tuffs of hair sticking up between his fingers. When he pulls his hand away his hair still looks like a disaster, but a more organized one. “I haven’t wanted to worry you, but it seems as if sleep is a thing I now require,” he clears his throat and looks up at Dean, “at intervals.”

“At intervals? What the hell does that mean?” Dean tries to control the anxiety spiking through him. Sleeping’s not the worst thing that could happen to Cas, but it’s not the best either.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Dean,” Cas snaps, “At. Intervals. I. Sleep.” 

Cas’ pissy tone does nothing to calm Dean’s worry, “What kind of fucking intervals, Cas?”

The fight goes out of Cas all at once, “I don’t…it’s not consistent…yet. I’ve, over the last few weeks, I’ve occasionally found myself startled awake. I haven’t been consciously falling asleep, but when my body requires it, I seem to fall asleep for a short period. It usually only lasts a few minutes. The longest was an hour, but last night, for the first time, I thought I’d try to go to sleep on purpose,” he glances down at his clothes, as if his state of undress should be indicative of his plan, “to be prepared for the trip.”

“And?”

“And I slept from the time I left you, until a few minutes ago.”

Dean wants to ask a million questions, but the one that pops out is, “Where did you sleep?”

Cas frowns at him. “In the room Sam showed me.” When Dean doesn’t respond he continues, “A few weeks ago, Sam said, since I’d been spending so much time at the bunker, maybe I should have a room, so that I would feel more at…” he trails off, looking cautiously at Dean, “It’s nothing. Sam was just trying to be helpful.”

Guilt pools in Dean’s stomach. He should have offered Cas that room. He’d been thinking about it for months. He’s the one who told Sam he wanted Cas to have a room, wanted Cas to feel more at home, but, in the end, he was too chicken shit to actually offer him one. He can’t believe Sam did it without even telling him. “No, Cas, it’s cool. You should have a room here. That’s, that’s good. I’m glad. I want you to, uh,” Dean swallows the uncomfortable lump in his throat, “feel more,” Dean stops, flicking his eyes to Cas, “uh, welcome,” he finishes lamely.

Cas blinks once and glances at the space between them. He runs his hands through his hair again and takes a step back. “Well, anyway, it occurs to me I might need something appropriate to sleep in.” He spreads his arms as he looks down at the rumpled dress clothes. 

“Yeah, ok. Ok. We can do that, but I need some fucking coffee first.” He puts his arm on Cas’ shoulder and turns him, guiding him toward the kitchen. “Caffeine first, pajamas for the Angel of the Lord second.” Cas lets himself be led with a small frown on his face, as if he’s uncertain if Dean is making fun of him. It pulls a laugh out of Dean that only makes Cas frown harder. 

“I don’t see what’s so funny about this.”

“I know, buddy,” Dean briefly pulls Cas’ shoulder close to him in a one armed hug, before letting go completely, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out. Come on.”

* * *

Dean manages to keep it together up until the point that he’s actually boarding the plane, but by then it’s too late. Sam is striding ahead and Cas is behind, a hand on his back as if he knows Dean’s considering making a run for it. “Relax, Dean, once we’re seated, I can help.”

Dean grits his teeth and follows Sam. Sam magically folds himself into the first free row, moving across to sit by the window. Dean slides in after him, knocking his knees on the armrests and banging his head on the overhead compartment. He slides into the middle seat and closes his eyes. He feels Cas sit next to him, but doesn’t open his eyes. He focuses on his breathing for a few minutes until he feels Cas’ hand on his knee, “It’ll just be a few minutes, Dean.” He opens one eye and peers up at Cas. His face is closer than he expected and Dean jerks back a fraction.

“Cas, you do know the flight is like 7 hours, right?” 

Cas huffs a laugh. “I am aware. Once we start moving, I can,” he reaches two fingers out toward Dean’s forehead meaningfully, before sitting back in his seat.

“You mean,” Dean lowers his voice to a whisper, “you could mojo me to sleep? Like for the whole damn flight? We talked about that.”

Cas shrugs again. 

Sam snorts and Dean turns to give him the pissiest face he can muster under the circumstances, “Shut it, Samantha.” Sam holds his hands up defensively and looks back out the window at the crew loading bags.

“I don’t want you wasting your mojo being my personal Xanax prescription.”

“That’s not how my grace works, Dean. It wouldn’t be,” he makes honest to god finger quotes, “a waste.”

Dean pitches his voice lower and asks, “Oh, really? Then why the hell are you sleeping, dude?”

Sam leans over Dean at that, “You’re sleeping?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. My grace is diminished, but stable. It’s not always clear what I can and cannot do until I try, but the energy isn’t fluctuating.”

Dean grunts and grips the armrests tighter. He closes his eyes to focus on his breathing again, “Thanks, but no thanks.” 

“Cas, man, why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asks. He sounds a little hurt, and Dean vindictively hopes he’s giving Cas his puppy dog eyes for the full effect.

“Because it wasn’t an issue until last night.”

“What happened last night?” Sam asks, and Dean can feel Sam leaning into his space. Cas is leaning in on the other side and even without looking Dean is starting to feel boxed in.

“I decided to lay down, but…” 

Dean exhales harshly and opens his eyes. Cas and Sam both stop and look at him. “Will you two back off. You’re too fucking close. God, how are 3 grown men supposed to fit in this space.” He presses his hands into the seat in front of him, “This is ridiculous, Jesus.” He’s panting now and he knows he needs to regulate his breathing, but it’s not working. Sam looks exasperated, but Cas calmly places a hand on his knee and says, “Perhaps you’d like to sit on the aisle? That way you wouldn’t feel so constricted?” 

He kinda wishes Cas would stop touching him, but he breathes out as slowly as he can and says, “Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

The plane is almost finished boarding, but Cas can’t get into the aisle yet, so he stands up and leans over the empty seat to give Dean some space. Dean lifts the armrest and moves between the two seats to get a little distance from Sam. Cas hovers awkwardly, hips back, but body bowed over the seat in a way that places him almost directly above Dean, but it’s better. Dean is probably going to be humiliated when this is over, but right now he’s as grateful as he’s ever been to Cas. As soon as the aisle clears, Cas steps back. Dean moves out after him and lets Cas back in. When Dean sits down in the aisle seat, it’s not great, but it’s not terrible. Sam and Cas resume their discussion, but Dean leans back and tunes them out.

He manages to fall asleep during takeoff, probably because he stayed up worrying most of the night. When he wakes up he can hear Cas and Sam talking quietly. He can only make out a few words, but he focuses on the sound of their voices, calm, happy, together, until he falls back to sleep. 

The next time he wakes up, it’s to a puff of air. Cas is leaning against him, his head tilting dangerously close to Dean’s shoulder, his mouth lined up close to Dean’s ear. Dean turns his head carefully, trying not to wake him. There’s a little pit of worry in his stomach that Cas is sleeping at all, but there’s also the urge to drink in his face like this, so much softer in sleep, something Dean never imagined he’d get to see. He glances past Cas and sees Sam absorbed in a book. If he were really going to wake up, he’d push Cas off. Instead he closes his eyes and wills himself back to sleep. 

He wakes up again with only an hour left. He suspects Cas might have used a little mojo on him, in spite of his argument. It’s a two for one that explains Dean’s inexplicable ability to sleep through a 7 hour flight and Cas’ nap on his shoulder. He considers confronting Cas about it, but decides to wait until he has solid ground under his feet. Cas notices his movements and looks up from the in-flight magazine to ask, “How are you doing?”

Dean glares at him a little and grunts, “Fine,” because it’s the truth. Cas tries to act casual, but Dean sees the way his mouth almost turns up at the corner as he says, “Good.” That little bastard definitely mojo’d him. “I’m gonna take a piss,” he announces before standing up. Sam glares over at him and Dean discretely throws him the finger.

Cas looks up at him, “Do you want me to…”

“What, Cas, go with me? Unless you’re interested in joining the mile high club, I think I can piss by myself, thanks.” He’s halfway down the aisle before it registers that he just propositioned Cas, which is why people should stop being nice to him, because he’s always going to respond by being an asshole. “Shit,” he says aloud, earning a dirty look from the mom in the aisle seat closest to him, “Sorry, ma’am.” The farther from his seat he gets, the worse he feels. The anxiety is sneaking back in, but he does really need to piss, so he grits his teeth and makes himself keep walking. His legs are shaking by the time he reaches the back of the plane. When he’s washing his hands he starts to feel better. He’s congratulating himself on relaxing when he opens the door and finds Cas waiting on the other side. “What the hell, Cas?”

Cas shrugs and says simply, “I need to use the restroom.”

Dean gives that statement the side-eye it deserves, but steps aside with a flourish to let Cas in.

Cas pauses at the door, “Maybe you could wait here. I’ll only be a moment, and then you won’t have to stand up when I return to our seats.” Dean has the strong impression butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

“Sure. Fine, Cas. That’s not weird at all. Go ‘use the restroom’ I’ll be right here.” 

Cas visibly relaxes, “Thank you, Dean. I’ll only be a moment.”

“Uh huh.” 

Dean waits a suspiciously short amount of time, though he does hear a flush and running water. “After you,” he says as Cas exits, letting Cas lead the way back to their seats. Before Cas slips into the aisle he puts his hand on Cas’ shoulder, stopping him. “We’re going to talk about this later,” he says.

Cas’ simple “Of course,” is enough for Dean to know he’s on the right track, but what’s done is done, and also, thankfully that includes the flight. He closes his eyes during the descent and is not at all surprised when he wakes up on the ground.


	2. Just buds sharing a bed

It’s easy to find the room. It’s a small bungalow, with four attached rooms. They open the door and Dean’s jaw drops. The room is gorgeous, all dark wood furniture and gauzy white curtains. Cas walks in like he’s unaffected by the room, which he probably is. It’s hard to impress an angel. Dean grunts and scowls to cover his embarrassed excitement. He walks across the room and throws his duffle on a chair. Cas wanders around the room, his fingers sliding gently over the furniture. He walks toward the porch and freezes, shoulders tensing in a way Dean associates with Cas hiding something. 

Dean comes to stand next to him. Without moving his eyes from their current position, Cas asks, “Why is the tub outside?” 

Dean whistles. “Awww, man, this is incredible,” he exclaims. He steps on to the porch to examine the tub. He looks around carefully, “The only thing you can see from here is the beach, down that path. No one can see up here. It’s private. Oh my God. I might actually have to thank Sammy for his ridiculous idea.”

Cas walks outside slowly, “I still don’t understand why it’s outside?”

“Treat yo’ self.” Cas frowns. “It’s just…I don’t know, sometimes it’s nice to lay in a tub of hot water and enjoy the view? Especially when you’re with someone you want to fuck.” Dean waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated motion, hoping to make Cas laugh. Cas’ ears pink up, but he does smile at Dean’s stupidity. Close enough. “Besides, this isn’t the _tub_ tub. I’m sure there’s a regular bathroom inside.” The thought of it makes Dean a little curious. “Let’s go check it out.” 

The bathroom is a majestic affair. Dean’s knees go weak looking at the shower. It’s large enough for two, with two separate shower heads. Dean can already feel the hot water pounding out the stress between his shoulder blades. There’s a jacuzzi tub as well, large enough for two. “Jackpot.” 

“I don’t understand your obsession with different ways to experience hot water.” Dean just shrugs and Cas continues, “There’s no privacy in this room. There are no doors on the bathroom. I thought humans valued their privacy?”

“First of all, you say that like you don’t know what it’s like to be human, second, if you’re here with someone it’s because you want to spend time with them, ideally naked.”

“Unless you’re on a case.”

Dean laughs, “Right, unless you’re on a case, but I’m guessing that’s only us. And besides, it isn’t like I mind spending time with you, right? It’s just a different kind of spending time, I guess.” He sobers a little at that, and walks back into the main room. The bed is gorgeous and full of pillows with a ceiling fan turning gently above it. He throws himself into the middle of the bed, arms out from his sides. An embarrassing groan escapes him. When he opens his eyes Cas is staring at him with that same rigid set to his shoulders. “What is it now, Cas?”

“There’s only one bed. Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue. I’m sure that’s what Sam was thinking, that I don’t sleep.” Cas looks awkwardly around like he’s trying to find a place to sleep. “The lounge chairs on the porch might suffice. It will probably only be for a few hours.”

Dean swallows and it sounds loud to his ears, but Cas is still looking toward the porch. There’s not much he can do about the situation, but face it head on. He sits up and rubs his hand over his face. “Don’t be an idiot, Cas. The bed’s big enough for both of us. Just don’t make it weird.”

Cas tilts his head and stares at Dean, “How would I ‘make it weird’?”

Dean sighs, “No, you’re right. Nothing weird about it at all.” He walks past, patting Cas’ shoulder as he goes, “Let’s go check out the beach.”

* * *

Before they leave Dean pulls off his boots and stuffs his socks inside. He cuffs his jeans twice for good measure before leading Cas down the path off the porch. The sand is hot, but it feels good between his toes. 

“We should check on Sam soon,” Cas says apropos of nothing.

“Yeah, I guess. Might as well give him some time to get settled in first. We’ll call him in the morning.” 

They’re close enough to the water that the sand is damp. Dean wiggles his toes just to feel the sand clump between them. He thought he could be cool about this, but he really wants to walk in the surf. He looks over to Cas, who is currently watching Dean’s feet with a concentration heretofore reserved for translating ancient text. He follows Cas’ line of sight and tries not to feel self-conscious about the sand piling up around his wiggling toes. A glance at the feet next to him reminds him that Cas came down to the beach in his fucking dress shoes. 

“Jesus, Cas. I should have told you to take your shoes off in the room. Walking in the sand is a million times better in your bare feet.” 

“Oh.” Cas looks down at his feet like he’s surprised they even exist. 

“Come on, dude. Let’s get you out of those.” Dean kneels down to unlace Cas’ shoes. He’s got one shoe half slipped off before he realizes this is weird. He’s definitely the one making it weird right now, but it’s ok because he looks up and Cas is staring down at him, but like he always does, quiet, intense. He isn’t resisting or looking at Dean like he’s nuts. Which he is, obviously, because he’s down on his knees taking off an angel’s shoes like he’s a fucking toddler or worse yet, a lover. The problem is, he can’t stop now. If he stops now, Cas will wonder why. Then he might figure out that this is weird and then it will be weird. At least if Cas comes to his senses and questions Dean’s behavior he can just say he’s establishing their cover. 

With that little justification in place he winks up at Cas and turns his attention back to his shoes. He feels Cas shift minutely beneath his hands, and when he looks up, Cas is no longer watching him, but the ocean. He gets the second shoe off, Cas obediently lifting his leg at the pressure of Dean’s hands on his calf. He strips the sock off and stuffs it in one of the shoes. He’s momentarily distracted by Cas’ feet. They’re large and a little less pale than Dean would have expected, with barely there tufts of hair on his toes. His brain screeches to a halt, except one single thought, _These are Cas’ feet_. Without meaning to he looks back up at Cas. His gaze is back on Dean now, still quiet, still intense, but there’s something else there Dean can’t define. When he swallows he hopes Cas doesn’t hear. He turns away quickly and strips off the other sock. Cas’ jeans are hanging over his ankles, and Dean thinks, _Fuck it_ , right before he grabs the hems and starts rolling the cuffs to keep them dry as they walk through the waves. His knuckles graze Cas’ legs over and over and Dean’s struck again by his own utter stupidity. 

He finishes his task and stands up. He avoids Cas’ eyes, but Cas reaches out and puts his hand on his bicep, getting Dean to look at him before he says, “Thank you.” 

It’s soft and quiet. Under other circumstances Dean might call it breathless, but these aren’t other circumstances so he musters the most normal face he can manage before he replies, “No problem.”

He supposes if they were a real couple, he’d take Cas’ hand, but they are NOT a real couple and holding Cas’ hand would be weird. Probably nice, but weird, and Dean has already insisted Cas not make it weird, so he’s definitely not going to be the one to make it weird…again. 

“Dean.” 

Dean startles and shoves his hands in his pockets. “What?”

“Are you ok?” Cas asks, tilting his head speculatively.

“Yeah, no, of course,” Dean blurts, and because Dean can never catch a break, he hears himself add, “Why?”

Cas turns to frown at the ocean before turning back. “This is making you uncomfortable.”

“What? What is? The beach? I’m not…why would you…I’m fine.” _Nice save, Winchester._

“This makes you uncomfortable, because it makes you uncomfortable to be seen ‘in a relationship’ with a man.”

And, wow, Cas, way to be wrong, thank god, but he still can’t help his curiosity, “And you aren’t?” 

“Dean, I’m at my essence, genderless. I suppose my time in this vessel has influenced me in some ways, but I still don’t see myself as…” he trails off. When he starts again there’s a hardness to his voice that wasn’t there before, “No. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable if people think I’m in a relationship with you, and frankly I find humans’ anxiety around gender and sexuality baffling.”

Cas’ anger takes Dean by surprise. “Look, Cas, it’s not that. Ok. I mean, it’s not the man thing, anyway. Maybe it’s the relationship thing. I don’t know what people in relationships do. Maybe that’s it, I don’t really know,” _lie_ , “but I’m not, like, embarrassed to be seen with you or something. Jesus, Cas, it’s not that, ok?”

Cas is silent for a beat before saying, “Ok, perhaps it would make you more comfortable if we had some ground rules about what we will and won’t do to appear like a couple. I doubt we have to do much other than appear together. This is a couple’s resort, so there are certain assumptions to be made.”

Even though Cas is wrong about some things, Dean thinks knowing what he’s supposed to do (and not do) might help him calm down and get into this role the way he’s supposed to, instead of the way he wants to. “Yeah, ok. Let’s talk about it, but let’s do it in the surf, I didn’t take off your shoes for nothing.” 

It only takes a minute to get their feet in the water, but it gives Dean a chance to get his thoughts in order. Dean lets the silence stretch out a few more moments before looking at Cas. He doesn’t know what he expected, maybe Cas furrowing his brow into the distance, but it wasn’t this. His head is tilted up, eyes closed, but there’s a smile on his face that Dean’s never seen. He looks…happy. Not in a relieved Dean’s not dead way, but in a quiet, content way. Dean glances down at his feet in the water. The water is up to their ankles and Cas digs his toes into the wet sand beneath them.

Dean snaps his mouth shut when Cas opens his eyes and turns to look at him, saying, “You’re right. This does feel…nice.”

Dean feels scraped raw. He’s painfully gripped by a desire to make sure Cas always has a reason to look this way, but also by guilt at the thought that he didn’t even realize Cas could look this way. Were they talking about something? Dean is definitely supposed to be talking about something…right, rules, ground rules. He can do that. He opens his mouth to do that, but, “I’m sorry.” 

Cas’ happy smile is instantly replaced by a worried frown. 

Dean’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. For not finding him sooner when he fell? For kicking him out of the bunker? For leaving him in Rexford? For ruining his chances of ever getting back into heaven? Those are definitely not topics he wants to bring up right now. He shakes his head and tries again, “I’m sorry I didn’t take you to the beach sooner, I guess. Anyway. Let’s talk PDAs.”

Cas’ frown clears up, but he cocks his head, “Public displays of affection.”

“How did you…” he pauses at the pointed look Cas levels at him, “Metatron, right. Ok. So, what kinds of things do couples do?”

“This is hardly my area of expertise. It would probably be wise for you to decide. That would have the benefit of keeping our behavior within your comfort zone.”

“Ok, but what if you don’t like something I suggest?” Cas raises one eyebrow sharply. Dean huffs in frustration. “Ok, fine. Uh…holding hands? That seems like a thing couples do.” 

Cas nods thoughtfully and Dean sees his gaze flick down to their hands hanging loosely between them, “How often?”

“I don’t…I guess…some of the time?”

“What is our preferred method of hand holding?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do we hold hands like this,” Cas reaches out and plucks Dean’s hand from his side. Cas’ fingers grip around the entirety of his hand, and, wow, Cas’ hands are really big. “Or, like this,” Cas performs some movement with his hands and suddenly Cas’ fingers are laced between his and Cas is bringing their clasped hands up between them for inspection.

“However,” Dean starts, stops to clear his throat, and tries again, “I guess however feels comfortable at the time.”

Cas drops his hand. “Let me get this straight, we will hold hands in some unspecified manner for some unidentified amount of time when we’re outside?” His eyebrow is back up, and the look he pins on Dean implies he thinks Dean is shirking his ground rule setting duties.

Dean runs his freed hand over his face, and is it weird that he thinks it smells like Cas, and blurts out, “I don’t know. Just…casual handholding, whenever one of us feels like it, like a real…like people do.”

“Like a real couple,” Cas says quietly.

All the fight drains out of Dean, “Yeah. I guess. Like a real couple.” 

Dean feels exhausted and Cas looks more serious than usual for some reason Dean doesn’t want to even speculate about, but if this whole terrible conversation was good for anything it was for giving himself permission to hold Cas’ hand. “Ok. Enough slacking off.” Dean grabs Cas’ hand, “I want to get a mental map of this whole place before we head back.” He starts tugging until Cas gets the message and starts walking with him, “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

* * *

Somehow, in the course of their day, Dean has forgotten, until his hand is on the door to their bungalow, that sleeping is going to mean sleeping next to Cas. It’s not that it’s going to be weird. It’s not weird to Cas. It doesn’t have to be weird to Dean. It’s not like he and Sammy have never had to make do with one bed. In fact, it’s not like Dean hasn’t slept pressed up next to Cas. 

Cas didn’t sleep in purgatory, but he stayed close while Dean slept. Usually he sat up, letting Dean lean against him. The closest thing Dean had to a creature comfort in that place was Cas’ shoulder or thigh. Very occasionally he awoke to Cas flat on the ground with him, Cas’ chest beneath his head and his arms wrapped protectively around Dean. After those nights Benny’s eyes were always a little more speculative, but he never asked any questions. Dean never acknowledged it in the morning and neither did Cas. 

Dean’s palms are sweating on the doorknob. He knows it’s stupid. Just buds sharing a bed. It’s not a thing. He pushes through the door heading straight to the bathroom only pausing to toe off his boots and pull his toothbrush and sweatpants out of his duffle. At the sink he splashes his face with cold water. He feels a little queasy, but the face he sees in the mirror just looks tired and grumpy. He brushes his teeth and takes a piss. He spits toothpaste into the sink. He cups some water in his hand to rinse his mouth. He pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, until he is struck by the realization that there’s nothing to keep Cas from walking in on him. He stands there, indecisive for a moment before he calls out, “Cas?” Dean can hear him moving around in the main room, but he doesn’t answer immediately.

“Yes, Dean?” Dean jumps when he realizes Cas is standing in the opening to the bathroom.

“Fuck, Cas. Jesus. Why do you always have to fucking sneak up on me?” 

For a moment, Cas looks perplexed by Dean’s anger, but his face hardens and one eyebrow goes up as he says, “You called me.”

“Yes, I called you, like I yell out your name, and then you yell back to me “what?” and then I fucking tell you not to come into the bathroom because I’m changing fucking clothes.”

Cas’ eyes drop down Dean’s body and up again before he says, “I changed out there, but didn’t feel the need to inform you. It’s unfair to assume I would know in what way, specifically, you wanted to communicate with me,” he pauses, “besides, I am familiar with your body, Dean. There’s no reason to be embarrassed for me to see it.” 

Dean counts backwards from 5 in his head to keep from saying something he’ll regret. “I’m not embarrassed about my body, Cas. I was just trying to avoid things being awkward. You’re the one who pointed out how humans like privacy.”

“And you’re the one who said privacy doesn’t matter at a place like this. Which is it?” 

“That’s not,” he starts before he gives up trying to explain the nuance of the situation to Cas. He’s right anyway. They’re going to be living on top of each other for the next few days, so he might as well give up on any expectations of privacy. “Ok. Fine. You’re right. But, just, fucking go, so I can finish getting ready.” 

“I need to brush my teeth.” 

“You what?”

“I said, ‘I need to brush my teeth.’”

“Since when?”

Cas doesn’t answer he just pulls a toothbrush out of the pocket of the light cotton sleep pants he bought at the gift shop when they picked up swimsuits. 

Dean rolls his eyes. Whatever. If it doesn’t bother Cas, it doesn’t bother Dean. As he’s pushing down his jeans he accidentally catches Cas’ eyes in the mirror watching him. He thinks to himself, _This is how you make it weird_ , but because good things do sometimes happen to Dean Winchester, the words don’t make it out of his mouth. He steps out of his jeans, eyes still on Cas’ reflection. Cas continues watching and brushing his teeth as if this isn’t the world’s least sexy striptease. He doesn’t usually sleep in his boxers, but he’s not stripping naked while Cas casually watches, so he grabs his sweatpants and pulls them on as quickly as possible, finally breaking eye contact and doing his best not to storm out of the room.

* * *

Once he’s out of Cas’ line of sight, Dean indulges in some stomping and glaring. It doesn’t improve his mood as much as he hoped. He starts to shove his dirty clothes into the duffle until he realizes they are at a fancy hotel, on a fancy almost vacation, and he has every reason to act the part. He empties his duffle into a drawer. He uses a second drawer for his dirty clothes. He frowns at the path to the bathroom when Cas still hasn’t emerged. He’s not going back to check on him, because even that idiot can’t hurt himself brushing his teeth. He unpacks Cas’ duffle to distract himself. Cas had packed carefully, and Dean transfers the clothes to a drawer in the same ordered way he finds them. He stuffs the empty duffles under the bed. Without the obvious signs of transience, the room looks homey. 

Cas’ continued absence pricks under his skin until he finally calls, “If you need help climbing out of the toilet, you’d better tell me now, because otherwise I’m going to sleep.” As if to prove the point to himself, he climbs into bed. It’s just as good as he remembers. His groan is probably audible in space.

Cas walks out looking uncomfortable and clutching his shirt in both hands. “Very amusing, Dean.” 

Dean props himself onto his elbows and his mouth falls open to argue. All that comes out is, “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

“No, I—You weren’t wearing one. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what sleeping attire was appropriate for this situation.”

Dean swallows and very carefully doesn’t think about the fact that Cas is about to slide into bed with him wearing only loose sleep pants. “No, man. It’s fine. No biggie, right?”

Cas visibly relaxes. He looks to the now empty chair that held his duffle, “Where…?”

“I, uh, unpacked for us. Your stuff is in the top drawer. And dirty clothes are in the bottom. Your duffle is under the bed.”

“Oh. That’s, thank you.” He bends down to add his t-shirt to the drawer of dirty clothes. He stands up, but makes no move toward the bed. 

Dean flops back against the pillows. Cas can come to bed when he goddamn feels like it. He doesn’t need Dean to hold his hand. He throws one arm over his eyes. When he feels the covers pull back and the bed dip he peeks out from under his arm. “Uh, Cas?”

Cas freezes half into the bed. Dean leans up on one elbow, which puts him eye level with Cas’ chest. His chest which has a distracting mole situated above one nipple. He drops back down onto his back and says, “Forgetting something?” 

Cas looks around the room and back down at Dean, “Not that I’m aware of.”

Dean turns his head, “Last one in bed turns out the lights.”

“Oh.” Cas resumes sliding into the bed while Dean glares. Once settled under the covers he flips his wrist and the lights are off. In the dim light from the moon outside the window Dean can see a smirk on Cas’ face.

Dean rolls over, back to Cas. “Goodnight, Asshole.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

* * *


	3. Step it up

Dean wakes up slowly. Light streams in through the window and his body feels drugged with sleep, soft and content. He leans into the warm weight at his back and feels a puff of air at the back of his neck. _Shit._ His body goes rigid, the last vestiges of sleepy contentment dropping away. The body at his back makes a displeased sort of noise and presses impossibly closer. 

How is this happening? He specifically told Cas not to make it weird. He takes a deep breath and begins to assesses the situation. The shock that Cas was using him as the little spoon might have killed Dean’s morning wood, but the realization that Cas has his arm curled protectively around Dean’s middle, with the tips of his fingers pressed to his hips, slipping just under the waist of both his sweatpants and boxers threatens to bring it back. Dean doesn’t really have time to have a heart to heart with his boner about appropriate times to get excited, so he closes his eyes and thinks about the time Sam threw up in the back of the Impala, and John had made Dean clean it up while he went out to buy beer. 

Cas makes that disgruntled noise again, his body pushing up behind Dean trying to get comfortable. In an effort to keep Cas asleep until Dean can figure out how to slip out of his grasp, Dean wills his body to relax. As soon as he does, he’s rewarded with a soft noise at his ear and a gentle press of splayed fingertips against his hipbone and a hot palm on his stomach. Dean’s not an idiot. He knows he needs to get out of this bed as soon as possible, but somehow the combination of anxiety and Cas’ hand next to his dick is less of a turn off than he would like. Cas’ hand flexes in his sleep and Dean bites back a groan. This is weird. Too weird. He is not, absolutely not, going to be disappointed that Cas isn’t touching his dick because Cas is his friend, and Cas is a fucking angel, and Cas has never, in any way, while awake, expressed an interest in touching Dean’s dick. 

The sound of Dean’s phone shatters the silence. Dean’s whole body jerks in surprise. He makes a grab for the phone, but tumbles out of bed taking most of the covers with him. “Shit.” He finds the phone. “Fuck.” He slides his finger across the screen, “What the fuck is it, Sammy?” 

“Hello to you too, Dean.” 

From his place on the floor wrapped in blankets he hears Cas’ sleepy, confused voice, “Dean?”

“Did Cas just wake up?” Sam asks.

“What? Yeah. We both did. Why the hell are you calling so early?” Dean looks up and sees Cas sitting up in the middle of the bed. He’s rubbing his fingers through his hair and staring at the bed like he doesn’t understand how it works.

“Did I, did I push you out of bed?” Cas asks and Dean prays to God that Sam didn’t hear that one.

He pulls the phone away from his face and whispers, “No, I got startled by the phone. I fell out.”

“Why did I wake up on your side of the bed?”

“Can we talk about this later?” He can hear Sam calling his name. He brings the phone back to his ear, “I’m here.”

“What is going on there?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on. We just woke up.”

“That _is_ what I mean. Dean, it’s 10am.”

“It’s…what?” Dean looks around the room and the light spilling in through the wall of windows. “Is it fucking illegal to get a good night’s sleep now? Jesus, Sam, I’ll call you later.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

When he looks up, Cas is leaning off the edge of the bed looking down at him, head tilted. His hair is a fucking mess, of course, and it makes Dean snort.

Cas’ eyes narrow suspiciously. “What?”

Dean rubs his hand down his face, smoothing it out to something resembling calm, “Nothing, man. Come on, we have to get on the case before Sammy busts down the door to whine at us some more.”

* * *

They find Sam tending bar at a little hut near the beach. They slide into a couple seats at the bar. Sam comes over, wiping a glass with a white rag. “Really getting into the part I see, Sammy.”

Sam’s mouth turns down as he puts the glass down under the bar, but he only says, “Nice short shorts, jerk.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but instead Cas says, “They only had two pair of shorts that fit either of us. Dean let me choose first.” Dean appreciates Cas’ urge to defend him, but he wonders why Cas looks over at him with pink ears and a nervous smile. 

Sam clears his throat, and Dean and Cas both turn to him abruptly. Dean rubs his hand over his face, “You got anything to eat back there?” 

Sam huffs, and says, “Uh…soft pretzels?”

“Awesome, breakfast of champions. Cas?”

“No, thank you, Dean.”

Dean looks back up in time to see Sam rolling his eyes as he grabs a pretzel to stick in the microwave. Dean swallows his urge to ask Sam what the eye roll is for, uncomfortably aware he likely doesn’t want the answer.

Sam plates the pretzel and throws it in front of Dean with a squeeze bottle of spicy mustard, “Knock yourself out.”

Dean tears off a piece of the pretzel before squirting some mustard onto the plate. He dips the edge in the mustard before jamming it into his mouth. “Ok, Sam, what’s the plan?” he says around a mouthful of delicious pretzel.

“Gross, Dean.” Sam purses his lips, “Did you wait until you had your mouth full to ask that question?”

Cas laughs, loud and sudden, almost a snort. Dean looks over at him and shrugs, but can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Sam throws his towel at Dean. “I’ll be back in a minute. Some of us actually have a job.”

Dean tears another piece of the pretzel and hands it to Cas. “You should try this.” Cas looks like he might refuse, but after a moment, takes it from Dean’s fingers. 

He takes a small bite at first. Dean watches the tentative way he chews until Cas seems satisfied and pops the rest into his mouth. Before he’s finished chewing, he says, “This is good.” Dean smiles. He doesn’t know if it’s because he gave Cas a food he likes or because Cas is obviously picking up his terrible manners. 

“You should try it with the mustard.” Dean pulls off another chunk and dips it in the mustard before holding it out for Cas. He means for Cas to take it, but he must hold it up higher this time, because Cas just leans over and plucks it from his fingers with his lips. The feeling of Cas’ lips on his fingers is quick, there and gone. He blinks. 

Cas leans back and smiles appreciatively. “We should get a second one of those,” he says, pointing at Dean’s plate.

“Uh…ok. Good. That’s a good. Yeah.” Dean clears his throat, “That’s a good idea.”

Cas seems pleased and reaches over Dean to pull off another piece for himself, before dipping it into the pile of spicy mustard. Dean knows he’s staring, but he’s not sure how to stop.

Sam rescues him by returning, saying, “Ok, I’ve got a couple ideas—“

Dean’s head snaps over to Sam, and he blurts, “Cas wants one.”

“What?”

“Dean and I would like another pretzel please, Sam,” Cas supplies helpfully.

Sam sighs and starts another pretzel. 

When they finally settle into the case, it becomes clear how little they have to go on. Sam has plans later in the day to hang out with some other employees. He’s hoping to bring up the deaths and see if he can get any useful details. 

Eventually Sam’s busy enough that he leaves them alone while he works. Dean glances at Cas, who’s eyeing the empty pretzel plate, still coated in a sprinkling of coarse salt. Cas’ eyes narrow in the way that usually means he’s about to make a terrible decision, but he only stretches out one long finger, trailing it through the salt before bringing it up to his mouth.

Dean finds himself righting a chair before he realizes he stood up. Cas looks up at him, alarmed, the look is softened by the finger still lingering between his lips. Dean clears his throat and looks away. “Come on, let’s go, uh, get started.”

Cas finger drops to his pants, where he gently dries it, before the space between his eyebrows furrows a bit. “But, did we decide what our ‘next move’ is?”

“I guess we’ll just wing it.”

* * *

They meet back up with Sam after his shift is over at an out of the way cabana on the beach that offers them some privacy. Sam throws himself onto a lounge chair. His heels hang off the edge, but his eyes are closed and he looks comfortable enough. Dean perches on the end of the nearest chair and Cas shuffles in and stands at the back of the cabana.

Sam exhales and his whole body seems to sink into the cushion of the lounge chair. When he finally opens his eyes and looks over at Dean and Cas, he frowns and sits up. “Is this what the two of you have been like since you left me this morning?”

Dean spreads his arms to the side and looks down then over to Cas. He doesn’t see anything upsetting about how they look. They’re both wearing swim shorts with t-shirts. Boring but fine. Dean even splurged and got them both a pair of cheap flip-flops from the gift store. They may be easing into dad territory, but they don’t stand out.

“Not your clothes, Dean. You both look like you’re at a party where the only person you know just left.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

Sam leans forward, putting his weight on his elbows resting on his legs. “Look, I talked to a lot of people today about the dead couples. The fact is, the two of you are going to have to step it up.”

“Step what up, Sam?” Dean knows his voice has taken on a dangerous tone, but he can recognize Sam’s ‘you’re not going to like what I have to say’ tone when he hears it. Cas must recognize Dean’s ‘I might punch my brother in the face’ tone, because he’s suddenly right behind him with one hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“So, the couples that were targeted were all, um,” Sam has the courtesy to blush, “very enthusiastic to be here. If there was a romantic thing to be done at the resort, they did it. I’m talking swimming with dolphins, couple’s massage, private romantic dinners on the beach.”

“You’re implying that Dean and I don’t appear sufficiently happy to be here together?” Cas asks, voice neutral.

“Yes?” Sam replies hesitantly, because evidently he recognizes Cas’ ‘I sound fine, but I’m actually about to smite you’ tone.

“Sam, your brother and I are negotiating the terms of our behavior here,” Dean’s brain does a little detour at the word negotiating coming out of Cas’ mouth, “I am not exactly an expert on human romantic relationships and your brother is uncomfortable expressing romantic interest in a man-”

“Cas, I told y—-“ Dean tries to interrupt, but Cas squeezes his shoulder just hard enough to be uncomfortable and continues. 

“So please refrain from criticizing the fact that we haven’t done more than hold hands, and give us some time to adjust to this cover.”

“You’ve been holding hands?” Sam asks and stares at them with his mouth still hanging open. Dean wants to pray for the sand to open up and swallow him whole, but he’s afraid Cas would be the only one listening.

Cas narrows his eyes dangerously. Sam throws up his hands, palms toward Cas, “Ok, ok. Good. That’s great. It’s just, you guys seemed really awkward before. Like you didn’t even want to sit next to each other. I’m sorry.” 

Cas seems slightly mollified. He takes his hand off Dean’s shoulder and walks around the lounge chair to sit next to Dean, a little closer than they would normally sit, but not touching. Dean can’t figure out if he’s too close or too far away. 

“Ok, so I managed to snag the records from all the couples’ stays to get an idea of their activities.” He stops and pulls a few folded up pages from his pocket. He opens it up and hands it to Dean. Dean spreads it on his lap and presses out the creases. 

They spend the next 30 minutes finding all the overlapping romantic activities on the couples’ itineraries. At the end Dean reluctantly agrees that their best option is for he and Cas to schedule those activities while looking like a happy couple and hope to use themselves as bait.

Sam excuses himself saying he has plans to meet a coworker for a drink later. Dean stares after him realizing that Sam has an actual chance of getting laid, while Dean has a 100% chance of lying in bed with his best friend while worrying about an accidental boner.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Cas says, “I still don’t understand what’s romantic about swimming with dolphins.”

* * *

There’s a brochure, more of a booklet, really, sitting on the desk in the room. He knows it’s there, even though he didn’t look at it. Inside are all the amenities and activities available at the resort. He’s sure every dumb thing Sam suggested is in that book. The only thing Dean can imagine worse than doing anything on Sam’s list is opening that book with Cas sitting next to him. Just thinking about it makes the skin on his palms feel too tight.

Dean pauses in front of their room, wiping his palms on his jeans. Cas looks at him curiously, but pushes past to unlock the door. Once inside, Cas pulls his pajama pants out of the drawer and disappears into the bathroom.

Keeping one eye on the doorway leading to the bathroom, Dean walks over to the desk. Yep, there’s the book. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks over to the window, sliding open the door. It’s dark, but the moon is casting just enough glow that the caps of the waves are visible in the distance. Behind him he hears Cas turn on the water. He strides back to the desk, stuffing the book under his shirt before he steps out onto the deck. 

Glancing back, he pulls the book out before sitting down. In the dark the cover is hard to see, but he knows it features a couple making ridiculous eyes at each other over a linen draped table surrounded by sand. Dean hunches, elbows on knees, head in one hand, trying to figure out how he ended up here.

“Dean?” Dean starts. Cas is standing in the room, a small frown turning down the edges of his mouth. 

“What, hey, hi,” Dean offers, standing, keeping his body between Cas and the booklet. In a moment of what he thinks at the time is inspiration, but will realize 15 seconds later is actually panicking, he gently tosses the booklet off the porch to a hidden spot in the sand.

“What was…Are you ok?” Cas leans his body to peer behind Dean. 

“Yeah, what? I mean, totally fine. Why would you…I thought you were taking a shower.” Dean tries not to wince at the pitch of his voice.

“I was going to, but I wanted to find out if you had dinner plans.”

“I don’t…why would you think I made plans without you?”

  
Cas huffs and says, “I just mean you need to eat. You haven’t eaten since lunch. Should we go out before I get in the shower?”

Dean hesitates. It’s been a long day of awkwardly deciding when to hold hands. Dean is exhausted. “Let’s just order in. I’ll order while you’re in the shower. I think you’d better eat too. If you need to sleep, you probably need food. What can I get you?”

Cas frowns. “During my time as a human my meals predominantly consisted of ramen and microwave burritos. I’ll let you decide.” Cas turns and goes back to the bathroom. 

Dean searches for the room service menu for 5 minutes before remembering he threw it off the porch.

* * *

By the time Cas is done with his shower, Dean’s managed to retrieve the menu, fumble his way through a room service call, and sit on the edge of the bed and sweat while thinking about planning a romantic dinner for Cas. 

Cas comes out in his sleep pants and a t-shirt. Dean is mesmerized by the way his sleep pants hang over the tops of his feet. His hair is damp and curling behind his ears. He looks so human it makes Dean’s heart hurt. Dean forces his eyes away and stands up.

“Food is on the way. I’m gonna take a shower. When the dude comes, just sign for it and give him that $10 bill on the bed.”

“Uh…”

“Come on, man, it’s not that complicated.”

Cas sighs and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s only that I don’t know what alias you used for our room, so I don’t know what name to sign.”

“Right. Um. Sam, uh, he made the reservation under, uh,” Dean rubs the back of his neck where he can feel the skin heating, “Dean and Castiel, uh,” he looks away and blows out a breath, “Winchester. Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Cas is giving him the full head tilt treatment. “It certainly doesn’t bother me to be given your surname, as I don’t have one of my own. You and your brother are the best men I know, so there’s no shame in sharing your name.” Cas says it the way he says everything, like there’s no use arguing. “Besides, it’s for the case, right?”

“Right. The case.” Cas turns toward the bed. “But, uh, Cas.” Cas turns back to face him. “You know if you ever needed it—for other reasons—it’s yours.” Dean licks his lips, “Sam and me, you know, we, uh, you’re family, man.”

“Of course, Dean. Thank you.” There’s a faint smile on Cas’ lips.

“Alright. Whatever. Don’t forget to give him that tip, or our next room service meal will include a little something extra.” Dean doesn’t wait for an answer, escaping into the relative privacy of the bathroom.

* * *

When Dean comes out of the shower, there’s a rolling table with a six pack of beer and a metal dome, presumably covering the sausage pizza he ordered, standing in the center of the room. Cas is sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs paging through the still somewhat sandy hotel information booklet. 

“Did you eat?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t want to start without you,” Cas says, looking up from the book.

Dean looks out to the porch. He can see the moon reflecting on the waves. “Wanna eat on the porch?”

Cas glances out the window as well. “Whatever you prefer.”

“Cas,” Dean pauses, “It’s not…you’re allowed to have opinions. You don’t have to do whatever I want.”

“I have opinions.” Why is it when Cas really looks at him it feels like he’s seeing something under Dean’s skin? He stands and moves closer to Dean. “And things I want.” Dean represses a shiver. Cas really needs to cut this shit out, because it’s frankly embarrassing how Dean’s insides turn to jelly when Cas pegs him with that raised eyebrow and serious voice. “However, in this instance, the room is pleasant. The night is pleasant. The company is pleasant.” Cas steps close enough that he has to look up into Dean’s eyes. “So you see,” He shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve considered it, and my opinion is,” Dean’s gaze wanders as Cas licks his lips, “whatever you prefer.”

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, wondering how the hell Cas can make something as simple as where to eat a pizza feel like some type of confession. “Ok. I want to, um, eat outside.”

Cas smiles at him. “As you wish.”

“Shithead. I never should have shown you that movie.”

Cas laughs, simple and unguarded. He lifts the lid off the pizza. It smells amazing. He puts a slice on a plate and hands it to Dean, before getting a slice for himself. Cas is halfway to the door when Dean grabs two beers and follows him out.

They sit in the lounge chairs, plates on the table between them. Dean unscrews a beer and hands it to Cas. Cas raises his eyebrows at him. “Might as well, right?” Dean replies.

“I suppose if I’m a Winchester now, and I’m sleeping and eating, I might as well get the full experience.”

Dean is filled with too many mixed emotions to do anything other than offer his beer up for a clink. “Here’s to the full experience.” Cas smiles at him as he gently taps his bottle against Dean’s. 

* * *

They eat their first slices in companionable silence. Dean goes into the room and grabs 2 more slices. He slips one onto Cas’ plate when he returns. 

“Thank you, Dean.” It’s so breathtakingly sincere Dean doesn’t know how to respond.

“What did you think about what Sam said today?” Dean asks instead.

“Aside from his rudeness about our acting abilities, I think Sam has excellent hunter instincts, and that his plan is logical.”

“So, we’re gonna do a bunch of those things?”

Cas looks out at the ocean. “That is the plan.” He looks over at Dean. “Unless you object.”

“What? No. I don’t object. It’s just weird, that’s all.”

“Hmmmm. Well, hunting monsters is a weird job.”

Dean laughs in spite of himself. “What should we do first?”

“I was looking at the descriptions in the guide,” he hesitates and gives Dean a look that says he’s well aware that Dean threw it into the sand, but also that he isn’t going to ask him why, “and I…while you were in the shower I made a reservation for the ‘Dolphin Experience’ tomorrow.”

“I thought you thought that one was dumb?”

Cas looks affronted. It’s a good look. “I didn’t think it was dumb. I just didn’t think it seemed very romantic. That’s why I chose it.”

Dean frowns. “You chose our first romantic activity on the basis of it NOT being romantic?”

Cas sighs, “Do you want another beer?”

“What? Uh. Yeah. All right.”

Cas disappears into the room. He comes back with two open beers and hands one to Dean. He sits on the side of the lounge chair facing Dean. “I thought perhaps by tomorrow we’ll have a break in the case. We may only need to do one activity.” Cas takes a long drink of his beer.

“And you thought you’d pick the least romantic one because?”

“Because I know this is difficult for you, and I’d like you to enjoy this trip as much as possible under the circumstances.”

“Cas, I told you…“

Cas stops him with a hand on his thigh, “Dean, I know you well. I know you’re making an effort, but I can tell this is hard for you.” Well, Cas does have a point. “I understand. I’m not upset. We’ll do this however works for you.”

Dean can’t help the way his eyes linger on Cas’ hand on his thigh until Cas notices and pulls his hand back. Dean sits up and swings his feet off the lounge chair. His knees nearly bump into Cas’. “You’re right, ok? Sort of. This is…hard…for me, but not like, I already told you, it’s not about not wanting to be seen with you.” Cas looks skeptical. “Cas, man, I’m a mess, you know that.” Cas’ face softens. “This is just, you know, part of the bigger picture of the garbage fire that is my psyche.” Cas laughs, which makes Dean laugh, and the tension is broken. “It’s all fine. The dolphin thing sounds like fun.”

Cas stands, putting his hand on Dean’s thigh for leverage, then holding his hand out to pull Dean up. “We should get some sleep. The reservation is for 8 a.m.”

“Ugh, I thought you wanted me to enjoy this?”

Cas grabs his shoulders and turns him before giving him a push toward the door. “It was the only time available.” Cas hands him the stacked plates while he gathers the empty bottles. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“With an attitude like that I don’t understand how our marriage has lasted this long.” Cas snorts and pushes him again to get him moving.

Dean dumps the plates on the cart and waits for Cas to dispose of the bottles. “So, do you really have to brush your teeth?” 

“Dental hygiene is important.”

Dean narrows his eyes, but only says, “Alright, then. Come on.”

They brush their teeth standing side by side. It should be gross, or at least weird, but instead it makes Dean feel like someone inflated a balloon inside his chest. Cas is a fastidious brusher, which surprises Dean not at all. Dean rinses out the sink when they’re done, swishing the toothpaste down the drain, which based on Cas’ eyebrow raise, surprises Cas a little. Dean just shrugs and pushes Cas toward the doorway.

Cas walks toward the bed, lifting up his shirt as he goes. Dean tries and fails to not stare at the dip in his lower back and the swell of his ass. Cas drops the shirt on the floor next to the bed and climbs in. Dean stops, not sure if he should take his shirt off. He didn’t wear one last night, but last night he was in bed first and he didn’t know Cas would take his off. He could wear the shirt to bed, but take it off in the night if he gets hot. Or if he keeps it on will it be weird since Cas took his off…

“Dean.”

Dean jerks his eyes to Cas and realizes he’s been standing still too long. “Huh?”

Cas smiles sweetly at him. “Don’t forget the lights.”

Dean pulls off his shirt just for the satisfaction of throwing it at Cas’ head.


	4. Dolphins are cool, I guess

Dean wakes up to the knowledge that Cas is an octopus when he sleeps. Dean is usually a side-sleeper, but he wakes up on his back. Cas is pasted to his side, one leg and one arm thrown over Dean, effectively pinning him. Dean doesn’t understand how a dude who’s slept maybe a handful of times can have habits like these.

Dean closes his eyes and breathes. Instead of freaking out, he lets himself focus on how nice it feels. Cas’ leg is wedged between his own. His arm is heavy where it’s draped over his chest. Cas has slid down the bed so his head is nestled in Dean’s armpit. 

Unlike yesterday morning, the sun is just coming up. He opens his eyes, trying to memorize how he and Cas fit together. He stays still, to avoid waking Cas up. He avoids moving as long as possible, but eventually Cas stirs, his leg stretching and tightening around Dean’s. Dean knows the exact moment Cas returns to consciousness enough to realize where he is, because his entire body freezes. 

“Morning, Cas,” Dean says, shooting for casual.

Cas’ arm drags over his chest until his palm presses down with the weight of Cas lifting his head to look at Dean. “Um.”

“I guess you’re a cuddler.”

Cas looks down their bodies at their entwined legs. “I suppose.” He slides his leg out from between Deans’ and pushes himself into a sitting position, stone face and rigid. “I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.” 

Dean wants to wipe that look off of his face. “Hey, no big deal. What’s a little cuddling between friends?” Cas looks unconvinced. Dean props himself up on his elbows. “Look, it’s fine, ok? You were asleep, you know? I can handle a little unintentional cuddling.”

Cas winces, but Dean’s not sure what he said wrong. “I’ll try to keep to my side of the bed tonight.”

Cas starts to slide off the bed, but Dean grabs his arm, “Cas, look, man, I said it’s fine. Don’t stress out about it. You’re just getting the hang of this sleeping thing. It happens. I don’t mind.”

Cas smiles one of his reserved smiles. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean lets go of his arm, “No problem, buddy.” 

Cas stands and walks to the bathroom. Dean flops back onto his pillow. _Buddy?_

* * *

Dean is used to questioning his life choices, but standing on the edge of a boat in only swim shorts, next to Cas, about to jump into the ocean to join a pod of wild dolphins who look startlingly eager to see them, he wonders if he could even replicate the steps that brought him here.

“Ok, remember everyone, we’re here on the dolphins’ time. We get to enjoy this privilege because they are willing to have us here. And…I have to say, this is as interested as I’ve ever seen them. Remember the rules,” the tour guide continues talking, but Dean can’t be bothered to pay attention. He’s pretty sure Cas is paying attention. He isn’t too worried about death by dolphin attack while Cas is with him anyway.

The tour guide is right about one thing. Even Dean, who knows jack shit about dolphins, can see they are practically vibrating with excitement swimming around the boat. 

He feels Cas grasp his hand and he glances up. Cas is watching the dolphins with a small smile on his face. He nods his head in a barely perceptible movement and Dean hears a splash as a few of the dolphins jump out of the water. 

“Holy cow folks, this is going to be a great day in the ocean!”

Dean narrows his eyes and squeezes Cas’ hand to get his attention. Cas glances over and smiles a little more widely at the look on Dean’s face. He leans in close enough that their bare shoulders touch and whispers in Dean’s ear, “They know me.”

Dean turns to reply, and, wow, those are Cas’ lips, “Like, know your name?” Cas huffs and bumps his shoulder.

“No. They know what I am. They’re excited to see me.”

“They’re wha—“

“Ok, friends,” the voice of the guide interrupts, “let’s swim with the dolphins! Jump in when you’re ready.”

Cas gives Dean’s hand a final squeeze before letting go and executing a perfect dive near the pod of excited dolphins. Dean’s so distracted watching Cas’ body arc into the water that he forgets to jump until the sounds of the other tourists splashing into the water near the boat remind him he’s supposed to be participating too. 

Dean contemplates cannonballing into the water just to spite Cas’ perfect form, but opts to dive in Cas’ direction, since Cas appears to be too busy communing with dolphins to appreciate his visual snark.

On the boat on the way out, they got a pretty detailed lecture about not expecting the dolphins to swim up to be petted, but when Dean surfaces about 6 feet away from Cas the dolphins appear to be competing for who gets to be touched by Cas. 

The bulk of the tourists are swimming in a huddle closer to the boat eyeing Cas with a mixture of anxiety and envy. A few have splintered off and are treading water slowly in Cas’ direction. Dean’s wondering if he’s going to have to displace a dolphin to get next to Cas, but at that moment a particularly frisky looking dolphin swims toward Dean, rears out of the water while clicking madly before starting to swim in circles around Dean herding him in the general direction of Cas.

He gets the message and swims over. Not only are the dolphins swimming in happy formation around Cas, when they surface they sound like a group of teenage girls who’ve just stumbled upon their favorite actor. Dean knows dolphins are supposed to be smart, but it sounds enough like they’re communicating with Cas to freak him out a little bit. He finally gets close enough that Cas notices and looks over. His smile is breathtaking. It’s like…Dean’s not sure what it’s like. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas smile like this. It’s not the quiet content smile of standing on the beach with his feet in the waves, it’s…radiant. 

Dean’s distracted from Cas’ smile by a particularly frisky dolphin who lets out a high pitch click before putting his head back in the water and bumping Cas in the stomach with his nose. Cas lets out a laugh like the Pillsbury Doughboy and Dean knows he’s staring, but he can’t tear his eyes away, or even close his mouth. The dolphin swims away with an air of delight. 

Dean swims closer and says, “This is pretty awesome Cas. Didn’t know you were a dolphin celebrity.”

Cas wrinkles up his nose and laughs again, showing his gums. “It’s not me so much as…what I am, or, what I’m not, I guess. But. Yes. It is pretty awesome. I agree.” 

Dean lets himself sink under water. He comes back up, wipes his face and pushes his hair back. When he opens his eyes, Cas is watching. Dean looks back. The surrealness of the situation is enough to distract Dean from how careful he’s supposed to be. He forgets, for a moment, about the way he needs to be on guard when he’s around Cas. For a minute it’s just him and Cas, bobbing in the ocean, looking at each other. 

Then Dean feels a blunt nose force him forward directly into Cas’ chest. Cas falls back under Dean’s weight. His arms circle around Dean’s waist to steady himself before they both go under. Cas still goes under for a second, but holds Dean out of the water. When he rights himself, strong hands still on Dean, Dean lifts his own hands to Cas’ dripping face to wipe the salt water out of his eyes. He takes an extra second to smooth Cas’ bangs off his forehead. 

When Cas opens his eyes, Dean can feel his neck heating up. Cas’s quiet smile is back. It’s not the loose, easy smile of before, but it still makes Dean’s stomach swoop dangerously. He wonders what Cas would do if he kissed him right now. Cas’ fingers trace along his waist before letting go. “I told them about our cover. They were trying to help.” 

Dean swallows, “Uh. Right. Obviously. The dolphins are helping with the case. Because you told them about it. No big deal.” 

Cas huffs and dips his head, long arms waving through the water to hold him up. Cas finally looks around to the others in the water. He notices the half awed, half angry stares of the other swimmers in the water and starts to blush. “Oh. This is quite suspicious, isn’t it?” Dean laughs so hard he goes under and comes up spitting water out of his mouth. 

Cas briefly moves between each visiting dolphin. He’s trying to be casual about it, but Dean can see he’s communicating something to each one. Dolphin after dolphin swims away toward the other groups, keeping their distance, but allowing the tourists to swim between them.

When the last dolphin swims away, Dean asks, “Did you tell them to do that?”

Cas’ face scrunches up, and his lips purse into a frown, “I asked them to. Dolphins are not creatures to be commanded.” 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, ok, Aquaman. Let’s go back the boat and see if we can get the captain talking.”

* * *

By the time they are back on dry land, Dean has a message from Sam saying he’ll meet them at their room after he gets off work at 2. When they get back to their room, Sam is waiting by the door.

“How was the outing?” Sam asks.

“You shoulda seen it, Sam. Cas was like the fucking dolphin whisperer. Before we were even in the water they were practically lining up to hang out with him,” Dean preens.

“It wasn’t really me, per se. They were just interested in what a celestial being was doing among them.” 

“Come on, Cas, you think they would have been so excited to see Zach? I don’t think so.” Dean laughs and pats Cas on the back.

“Sounds like you guys had fun,” Sam says slowly.

Dean shrugs. “Dolphins are cool, I guess.”

“O…K,” Sam replies, with just enough hesitation to put Dean on edge, “How about the case? Were you able to get any of the crew talking?” 

When Dean doesn’t answer right away, Cas steps in. “Oh. We were not very successful in that regard.” Cas face screws up, “The Captain only seemed to want to talk about ‘the majesty of the sea’ and how he thought my connection to the dolphins was rivaled only by his own. He was quite,” Cas trails off, “persistent.”

“What Cas is trying to say, is that we couldn’t get anything useful out of the Captain because he was too busy hitting on Cas.”

Sam looks between them both, “How’d that, uh, go over?” 

“What do you mean, how’d that go over? I was standing right fucking there.”

“Sure, but you’re not actually married, Dean.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“No, but Cas does.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean looks helplessly at Cas. Did Dean accidentally cockblock Cas? If they hadn’t been undercover, would Cas have reacted differently? Is Cas even into guys? Is he even into anyone?

Cas glances over at Dean, and whatever he sees has him standing up and coming to sit next to him. “Dean it’s fine. I wasn’t interested in continuing the flirtation. I was relieved by your possessive posturing. You were quite convincing.”

Sam laughs so hard he almost falls out of his chair. Dean glowers at him. Cas just looks at Dean and shrugs, like Sam is a great mystery he doesn’t need to understand.

Sam sits up and wipes the tears out of his eyes. “Ok, well, I think I’m getting somewhere. I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and by the way, I snagged you a spot for the dance lessons tonight at 4.”

“Sam,” Dean starts, but Sam is already to the door. 

“Look, you don’t have to be good at it. You just have to show up and poke around.” 

“Alright, fine, whatever, I’ll walk you out. I’ll be back in a minute Cas.”

“See ya, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Sam.”

Dean shoves him the rest of the way out the door and closes it behind them. 

“What’s up?”

Dean’s hands are shoved in his pockets as far as they’ll go. “I know one of the things on your stupid list is one of those romantic dinners on the beach.”

“It’s not my stupid list, it’s—“

“Ok, shut up for a fucking second, Jesus. It’s one of the things on the very practical list of pre-murder activities. Anyway, I’m always with Cas, so I can’t really set one up.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret, Dean. He knows it’s on the list. Just do it with Cas.”

“Look, when you’re on a fake romantic vacation with your best friend, you can decide what shit you’re willing to talk to them about. But I’m asking you, as my brother, who I have literally gone to hell for, to take this list,” Dean pulls his hands out his pocket and hands Sam a piece of paper, “and use the stuff I put on it to set up one of those dinners tomorrow night.”

Sam looks over the paper and his face gets serious. “Oh.” 

Dean crosses his arms, “What do you mean, Oh?”

“What? Nothing. I just mean, oh, ok, I can do that. No problem.”

Dean squints. “Ok. Fine.”

“Alright. Is that it?”

Dean doesn’t uncross his arms. “Yes.”

“Awesome.” Sam starts off down the path. “And don’t worry, it’ll be perfect.”

“It doesn’t need to be fucking perfect you asshole,” Dean shouts to his retreating back.

* * *

Dean flops onto the bed as soon as they return to their room from their dance lessons. “Ugh. I’m going to kill Sam.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Cas argues.

Dean refuses to open his eyes or lift his head off the bed. “Are you kidding? It was worse than that.” He can feel Cas standing by his knees.

“You can’t expect to be good at everything on your first try, Dean.”

Dean musters up enough energy to glare at him. It’s not like Dean was looking forward to the dance lessons, but he can admit, in the privacy of his own brain, that he did think 2 hours with an excuse to press up against Cas didn’t sound like the worst idea he’d ever heard. 

It turned out to be more like 2 hours of profound embarrassment in which Cas seemed to eke out a modest success at learning the steps, but was severely handicapped by Dean’s inability to keep his feet to himself. He groans and throws his arm over his eyes.

“Dean.”

Dean peeks at Cas from under his arm. Cas holds his arm out toward him, “Get ready for bed, and I’ll order some food.” Reluctantly, Dean takes the offered hand and lets Cas pull him to his feet. Cas doesn’t step back after Dean is on his feet, so their chests are nearly touching. 

“Sorry about your feet, dude,” Dean says into the space between them.

“My feet are fine. I’m an angel, remember.”

“Yeah,” Dean licks his lips, “I remember.” 

Cas takes a step back. “Then you know you have nothing to apologize for.”

Dean watches Cas walk to the desk and page through the hospitality book. Dean watches him flip through the pages until he finds the room service menu. He looks up at Dean. “Are you worried I don’t know how to order room service?”

“What? No.” Dean says, confused. Cas tilts his head, but says nothing. “Oh, uh, right. Shower, bed.” Dean snaps his fingers on both hands, before giving Cas weak finger guns, “I’m, uh, going. Now.”

Cas nods slowly and watches Dean until he turns around to head to the bathroom. 

Dean turns the water on in the shower and lets it heat. He peels out of his clothes while the room steams up. When he steps into the shower it’s almost too hot, but he relishes the heat pounding into his shoulders.

It’s good to have a few minutes to himself. He’s starting to worry all of this domestic-fluff-Cas-time is chipping away at his very finely honed defenses. It’s not like he’s not enjoying it, but reentry is going to be a bitch. He pours out shampoo into his palm, working it into a lather on his head. It’s fine, though. He just has to get his head back in the game. Remember this is a case. Stop getting distracted by Cas’ eyes, or his arms, or his, _fuck_. He turns the water to cold and when he finishes his shower he’s both grumpy and resentful.

* * *

It’s hard to stay grumpy when he comes out of the bathroom to find Cas sitting in his pajamas on the bed, a tray with two untouched plates of steak and fries in front of him, and another six pack of beer on the nightstand.

“God, Cas, that looks amazing,” Dean says, “I’m just gonna,” he holds up his sleep pants. Cas’ eyes drop down the length of his body and back up before nodding once and returning his gaze to the hospitality book in front of him.

Dean huffs a laugh at himself for the way his body reacts to Cas’ assessment. Cas is always looking at him. It’s no different to Cas that he’s barely covered up. Cas has zero understanding of modesty, but Dean’s body still reacts to it like some kind of eye-fucking foreplay, because catching a break at this point would be out of character.

He tosses the towel onto the floor and slips into his pants. He joins Cas on the bed, careful not to jostle the tray. Cas grabs a beer off the nightstand and hands it to him. It’s already open. Dean could get used to this. “Thanks, Cas.”

They go over the details of the case while they eat. It still feels like grasping at straws. Dean gets another bite of steak on his fork. It’s tender and flavorful on its own, but there’s also some sort of sauce that Dean would kill to be able to recreate. He runs the steak through the sauce until it’s dripping and jams it in his mouth. “Jesus,” he says around the bite in his mouth, “this is so fucking good.” 

Cas looks up from his plate, smiles at Dean’s stuffed cheeks. Dean smiles back, then watches Cas’ eyes drop to his chest and stay there. “Uh, Cas?”

Cas’ gaze doesn’t waver, “You’ve got a,” Dean looks down. Cas’ arm stretches into the space between them. Before Dean has a chance to react, one of Cas’ long fingers swipes a drop of sauce off his chest. Dean watches Cas inspect the sauce on his finger. Cas looks straight at him and pops his finger into his mouth sucking off the sauce. At Dean’s expression, Cas says, “The sauce is too good to waste,” before turning back to his own plate.

Dean manages a weak, “Uh huh.” He knows with painful clarity he’s going to be jacking off to that the second he has five minutes to himself.

* * *

Dean wakes up to the feel of Cas flopping into a different position. It’s the first time since their arrival that Dean’s woken up in the night. It’s also the first time he hasn’t woken up with Cas draped over him. Cas gives a small grunt and repositions himself.

“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” Dean whispers into the dark.

Cas stops moving abruptly. “I’m sorry to wake you, Dean.”

“Not a problem, man.” Dean turns his body toward Cas, his eyes have adjusted just enough to see the outline of Cas body, flat on his back, far too rigid to encourage sleep. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“It’s nothing. I just,” Cas pauses, “I keep finding myself encroaching on your space.”

“Is this about this morning?” Dean asks.

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. “Yes.”

“Dude, I told you. It’s no big deal.”

Cas looks back at the ceiling, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Cas, look at me.”

Cas turns his head just enough to see Dean from the corner of his eye. 

“Cas.” Cas sighs heavily. Dean is sure if there were more light he would have seen an eyeroll to go with it. Cas slowly turns onto his side, mirroring Dean. What little light filters through the windows reflects in his eyes. “Stop being stupid.”

Cas snorts a laugh, but immediately sobers. “It’s not stupid to want to make your life less difficult.”

Dean runs his hand down his face. “Then it’s not stupid for me to want to help you either. You think after everything we’ve been through, a little unconscious cuddling is where I’d draw the line?”

Cas doesn’t say anything. Dean can see more details in his face now. The blue of his eyes is washed out in the dark, but he can still feel that gaze like a physical thing.

“Turn over.”

Cas blinks once. Dean can barely see the there and gone frown on his face, but he turns without question. Dean moves closer, arranges his body so he’s curved around Cas, pressed chest to back. He slips his arm around Cas’ body, resting in the dip of his waist. 

“Dean.” There’s a tone in Cas’ voice Dean can’t parse and he’s too tired to try.

“Go to sleep, Cas.”

Dean feels Cas’ body heave as he takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean briefly tightens his arm around Cas in a close facsimile of a hug. “Night, Cas.”


	5. Foot-job territory

When Dean wakes again, he’s not surprised to find himself cocooned by Cas’ body heat. In the night Cas has turned in his arms, so they’re now chest to chest. Cas’ head is tucked under his chin. He can feel Cas’ breath on his chest. One arm and one leg are draped over Dean, pulling their bodies as close as possible. Dean’s arm is also wrapped around Cas, and he gives an unthinking squeeze.

Cas immediately starts to shift. It’s slow and lazy, but it’s definitely heading to the danger zone if Cas doesn’t wake up soon. Dean lifts his arm and pushes Cas’ hair back, hoping to wake him gently. Cas makes a soft noise into his chest that’s immediately cut off. Cas tilts his head up. 

Dean speaks quietly, not wanting to spook Cas, “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Cas squints up at him with sleepy eyes. Cas’ voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Good morning.”

Cas’ hair is begging to be ruffled. Everything feels a little unreal in the early morning light, so Dean lets himself have this one small thing. He runs his fingers through Cas’ hair once and asks, “Did you sleep well?”

Cas’ eyes slip closed at the touch. “Yes, I,” he opens his eyes, and the look in them has something in Dean’s chest fluttering, “Thank you, Dean.”

Their bodies are still pressed close from chest to toes. On Dean’s end, the comfortable intimacy of the morning is quickly turning to something else. While he’s reluctant to break the spell, Dean knows he needs to extricate himself soon, before Cas learns first hand, how NOT a problem their excessive cuddling has been for him. “Any time. Now, let me up. I need to piss.”

Cas huffs, untangles himself, and flops onto his back. Dean sits up and ruffles Cas’ hair one last time, laughing at Cas’ disgruntled reaction. After he swings his feet onto the floor, he picks up his phone to check for any messages from Sam. 

“Looks like Sam set up our next activity. Couple’s massage at noon,” Dean says, before standing and throwing his phone onto the bed. “We’ve got a couple hours to kill. I guess that means some time to walk around the resort throwing heart eyes at each other and trying to get a target on our back.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Cas says in his serious drawl.

Dean stops rummaging in his drawer long enough to turn back to Cas, “That’s me, hopeless romantic.”

“There’s nothing hopeless about you,” Cas says, a little too serious for Dean to throw a joke back. 

Dean’s ears heat up as he turns back to the drawer to finish gathering his clothes. He walks into the bathroom without replying.

* * *

They arrive at the spa at 11:45, per Sam’s instructions. They’re given white fluffy robes and slippers and pointed in the direction of the changing rooms. Dean shuts the door behind him and presses his face to the cool wood. He needs to calm down. He wills himself to breathe steadily. He considers quickly jerking one out, so that biology can work in his favor, but it’s unlikely he could manage it quickly enough to not arouse suspicion.

Instead he changes and breathes and berates himself as thoroughly as possible before joining Cas in the hall. Cas is waiting for him looking uncomfortable and awkward in his robe and slippers. Oddly, that perks Dean up enough to manage a friendly back slap and a “Let’s do this,” before they head back to the massage therapists.

In the middle of the room there are two tables positioned near each other. There’s a white sheet over each table, draped over and folded back. A small pillow sits at the head of each. Dean’s face involuntarily scrunches up at the rose petals sprinkled over both beds. A steaming hot tub is built into the corner of the room.

“Welcome, I’m Chloe. Rosa and I will be your massage therapists,” a young woman with dark brown skin and her hair hidden in a wrap announces. She’s gorgeous in a too young for him way that makes Dean wonder when he got so old. “Rosa and I will leave for a few minutes to let you get settled. You can hang your robes on those hooks and slip under the sheets.”

The women leave. Cas walks over to the hooks while slipping the robe off. Dean doesn’t mean to watch, but Cas is in front of him and that’s just a lot skin and, wow, that’s Cas’ ass and it’s…it’s really difficult to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. Cas reaches up to hang the robe, and, yeah, that’s—Dean’s brain screeches to a halt as Cas turns around. Dean’s eyes dart up as quickly as possible, but he, yeah, he definitely saw that, and it is definitely taking a lot of willpower to keep his eyes on Cas’ face. 

Cas is looking at him curiously. “Are you ok, Dean?”

Dean manages to hold in a bout of hysterical laughter. “Just, uh, nervous I guess. You know, getting naked with strangers and letting them touch me. I mean, not like I’ve never gotten naked with strangers.” What is happening to his mouth? “If you know what I mean,” Dean winces where an exaggerated leer should go. Cas’ mouth turns down. Dean wishes for the earth to swallow him whole. “I mean, but, not, you, know, lately, so I’m just, ok. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Cas laughs under his breath and sits on the edge of his table. Dean slips off his robe and hangs it up. When he turns around Cas is still sitting on the side of the table looking completely comfortable and completely nude. His eyes are on Dean. He doesn’t look away until Dean is lying on his stomach, under the sheet. Once he’s settled, Cas slips under the sheet and rests his head on his arms facing Dean. 

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Dean asks. 

Cas makes an awkward shrug. 

It hits Dean out of nowhere. It’s not new information, but he feels it with such intensity there’s no room left for the cauldron of anxiety he normally feels when he lets himself think. He loves Cas. He loves how he doesn’t give a damn about most human customs, but others trip him up. He loves how he gets pop culture references now, but still lets Dean show him movies and tv shows like he’s a clean slate. He loves how when Cas looks at him, he never sees judgment in his eyes. He loves how Cas takes him at his absolute worst, but helps him be better. He just loves this weird, nerdy dude.

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what?” Dean asks.

Cas cocks his head on his arms, “You have a strange look on your face.”

“Oh.” He could lie. He could say anything. Instead he finds himself telling the truth, “I was just thinking, it is weird, but I guess if I have to be here, doing this weird-ass fake vacation thing, I’m glad it’s with you.”

Cas’ smile is worth the tiny crack in his façade. “I’m always glad I’m with you, Dean.”

There’s a light knock on the door. Chloe and Rosa come in. Rosa moves to a small table, fiddling with an iPod until some sort of soothing new age music filters through the room. Dean makes a face and Cas laughs. He finds himself smiling back in spite of the musical abomination filling the room.

Rosa comes to stand next to Dean’s table and Chloe moves to Cas’ side. “How are you boys enjoying your vacation?” Chloe asks, her voice modulated to exude relaxation.

“It’s…good.” Dean’s surprised to realize that’s an honest answer. 

“Yes,” Cas adds, “Dean and I have needed to get away for a while. This has been surprisingly,” Cas licks his lips, looking directly at Dean, “pleasurable.”

Rosa tries to disguise a snort as a cough. “I bet,” is all Chloe replies.

Dean doesn’t add anything because he’s busy willing his dick to ignore the fact that Cas just licked his lips and said the word pleasurable while naked and staring at him. 

“We’re going to start with your shoulders.” Dean watches Chloe fold the sheet down to the dip in Cas’ back. He feels Rosa doing the same to him. Cas continues to stare at him placidly. When Rosa’s hands slide down his neck to his shoulders, he sees Cas’ eyes follow the movement and stay locked on the strong fingers gripping his muscles. Dean watches how the dark skin of Chloe’s arms contrast against Cas’ surprisingly tan skin. The whole picture is sending Dean’s mind places it really shouldn’t go, and he wonders if Cas thinks Chloe is attractive. She’s too young for Cas too, but technically everyone is too young for Cas. Logically Dean thinks he ought to feel jealous, but watching someone strong and capable take care of Cas is stirring the exact opposite feeling. He should close his eyes, but he doesn’t. 

Just then Rosa does something to the meat of his shoulder that has him closing his eyes and moaning like a porn star. He sinks further into the table, “Jesus Christ.”

“Your shoulders are very tense,” Rosa notes, “Do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?”

Dean opens his eyes and sees Cas watching him with wide eyes. He looks a little…nervous? Dean thinks. Does he think Dean is going to blow their cover? He winks to show Cas he has it under control. Cas takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Dean sees his jaw tick. 

“Uh, I, it’s a lot of manual labor, I guess you’d say,” Dean starts.

But Cas looks at Rosa and says, “Dean saves people.”

“Cas—“ Dean lifts his head and warns.

“He works very hard to save everyone, but even when he does all that he can do, he doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“Cas—“ Dean tries again. Rosa pushes his head back to the table.

“He’s a firefighter. It’s very stressful.” Dean glares at him.  


“I’ve gotten some firefighters in here before,” Rosa muses while continuing to do something amazing to his back. “It’s not unusual to carry a lot of that stress in your shoulders. Sometimes people with jobs like yours don’t think to take care of themselves, but I promise, letting me take care of some of these knots will make you better at your job.” She looks over at Cas, “You’re lucky you’ve got a real hero for a husband.”

Cas’ eyes flick to Dean and back up to Rosa, “Yes. I am lucky to have Dean.”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Cas is a hero too. He’s uh, a doctor. He’s saved my life more than once. Once, I was, uh, hurt pretty badly. You could say it was hell. He pulled me out. We’ve had our ups and downs, but,” Dean’s mouth feels dry, “here we are.” 

Rosa’s fingers dig in again forcing another groan out of Dean. “I had no idea this was going—Jesus—to feel so good.”

Rosa snorts again, but doesn’t bother hiding it. Dean closes his eyes to better appreciate the feeling. “God, Cas, this was a really good idea.” 

“I’m surprised your doctor here has never worked these knots out.” Chloe offers.

Dean slits his eyes open enough to see Cas frowning. “Well, Chloe, it might surprise you, but I can be a bit of an asshole when it comes to letting Cas help me.”

It’s Cas’ turn to snort a laugh, which quickly turns into wheezing laughter. Cas’ shoulders shake so hard, Chloe has to stop the massage. When Cas finally stops, he has to wipe tears out of his eyes before he settles his head back on the pillow. “Sorry, it’s just, Dean and I can both be very stubborn.”

Chloe puts her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow, “But now that you know how great it feels, you’re going to let him take care of you now and then, right?”

Dean knows this is an argument he can’t win, so he says, “Yes, ma’am,” as convincingly as possible.

“Good,” Chloe says. She walks over to a basket and pulls out a towel, “Castiel, put this on, we’re gonna give you some practice right now, to make it hard for Dean to refuse later.”

Dean’s watching Cas closely enough to see him momentarily freeze before taking the towel. Dean’s heart speeds up. He squeezes his eyes shut while Cas stands to wrap the towel around himself. He feels Cas’ hand on the back of his neck. He opens his eyes and Cas is bending down to speak quietly in his ear, “Is this ok?”

Dean offers up a weak smile. “Of course. Who knows. Could be useful, right?” Cas squeezes Dean’s neck in response. 

Dean smashes his face into the towel while Chloe positions Cas. “Feel right here,” Rosa says. Immediately Dean feels a grinding pressure so good a ludicrous moan escapes him. The hand on his shoulder, Cas’ he’s sure, pauses briefly before repositioning slightly and beginning again.

“Shi-i-t, Cas.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Cas asks, fingertips still, but pressed into his muscle.

“Fuck,” Dean knows he should be embarrassed by the slurry tone to his voice, but he can’t be bothered. “No.” 

Cas’ fingers continue digging. Dean manages to keep his vocal responses to manly grunting. 

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” Chloe says.

“Well, Dean may not have let me do this in the past, but I am intimately familiar with Dean’s body in other contexts.”

Dean’s cheeks heat. Rosa snorts. Cas’ fingers find a particularly good spot, and a loud moan works it’s way out in spite of Dean’s effort.

“OK, I think you have things well in hand, Castiel. We’ll let you two finish up. You have the room for another hour. Feel free to enjoy the hot tub and relax.” 

“Thank you, Chloe. Thank you, Rosa,” Cas says without stopping. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Dean tries to agree, but it comes out like a slush of vowels and he gives up.

The doors close. Dean waits for Cas’ fingers to stop now that they’re alone, but they don’t. They keep searching out knotted muscles and working them until they release.

“Cas, you don’t,” Dean bites back another moan, “don’t have to keep doing that. It’s just usssss.”

“Does it feel good?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhuuuuuh,” Dean oozes. 

“Then that’s reason enough to continue.” Dean’s eyes are closed, but he can picture the accompanying shrug.

Soon Dean is nothing more than a person shaped pile of goo. Cas switches from deep focused pressure to sweeping movements down his back. The unexpected but welcome result of Cas’ massage is that Dean’s been too relaxed to even worry about an awkward erection. He’s nearly asleep before he feels Cas drag his fingertips gently from his lower back to his neck. They linger there for a moment before Cas pulls his hands off.

Dean would hesitate to call the noise he makes a whine, but only because he’s very good at lying to himself.

“You can rest, Dean. I don’t know why we have the room so long, but we still have 45 minutes.”

“I think they were expecting us to,” Dean slurs into his arm, “you know.” At Cas’ silence Dean slits open one eye. Cas is looking at him. Waiting. “Jesus, Cas. Like. Make our own happy ending.” Cas has the decency to blush. Dean turns his head toward the corner of the room, “You should try the hot tub. You’ll like it.”

He hears Cas stand up. Watches Cas walk past toward the tub in his towel. He doesn’t stop watching as Cas pulls the towel from his waist and steps into the hot tub. 

“Oh,” Cas says as he sinks into the water.

“Oh?”

“It’s nice.”

“Turn on the jets. It’ll be nicer.”

Cas looks curiously at the dials until he finds what he’s looking for. The water bubbles to life. Cas closes his eyes, leans his head back, and slides deeper into the water. “It’s quite large, but I can get out, if you’d like to try it.” 

Dean takes the opportunity to sit up, wrap a towel around his waist and stand. Cas opens his eyes as Dean gets closer. His voice sounds even lower than normal when he asks, “Do you want me to get out?”

“No, man. That’s alright. Uh. I’ll just…” Cas seems to sense his unease and tilts his head back again, giving Dean enough privacy to drop his towel and slide into the tub.

Cas is right. It is nice. “I’m never moving again.”

“I’m starting to see the appeal of different ways to experience hot water,” Cas says without lifting his head from the edge of the tub.

Dean copies his pose. It feels awesome. The more he relaxes, the more his body bobs. His legs bump against Cas’ beneath the bubbles. “Sorry, dude.”

Cas stretches his arms out along the side of the tub and says, “It’s not disagreeable.” But then he rearranges his legs so Dean can stretch out straight with Cas’ legs on either side and that’s even better. Possibly too much better, as Dean becomes acutely aware that Cas is naked beneath the water. Like, if the jets were to stop, Dean would be able to see Cas’ dick bobbing with the movements of the water. If Dean stretched out his legs a little bit more, they would be in definite foot-job territory. Dean laughs out loud at his inability to avoid thinking about Cas’ dick for 5 fucking minutes.

Cas sits up to splash water on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know. I just…is this what normal people do all the time?”

“You mean pretend to be in a relationship with their best friend for the purposes of ferreting out a supernatural murderer?”

Dean laughs again and lets his whole body slide under the water. He comes up running his hands over his face and through his hair. “No, you know, hanging out. Relaxing. Whatever.” He pauses, “Best friend, huh?”

Cas stares at him for a moment, “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“No, yeah. I, um. Same. I mean, the best friend thing. With you. Me too.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

They’re definitely doing that thing where they stare at each other too long, but Sam’s not here to awkwardly clear his throat, and Dean’s not interested in looking anywhere else. Until the bubbles stop. He looks down in surprise, and, surprise! There’s Cas’ dick. Cas’ dick that is maybe not 100% at attention, but is also not 100% not at attention. Dean opens and shuts his mouth a few times before he realizes he needs to look somewhere else. Eyes? Yes, eyes. That’s where he needs to be looking. 

“I set the bubbles to stop when we needed to be finished,” Cas says apologetically.

Dean looks up, “Yeah. Of course. Right.”

Cas stands up. Dean finds himself staring at Cas’ half hard dick again until Cas steps out and grabs a towel, rubbing it over his body without a hint of awkwardness. Dean feels awkward and he’s not even the one sporting a chubby for all the world to see, except, oh, he actually is.

Dean has his hand on his towel before he stands up. He has it around his waist before he even steps out of the tub. The ends drip when he steps out. He finds another towel to dry his upper body. Cas tosses his towel in the hamper and walks to where the robes hang on the door. Dean joins him, slipping the robe on before pulling the towel off and throwing it on top of Cas’.

“Do you think that was sufficiently romantic?” Cas asks.

Dean gapes at him, “What?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience, so I’m asking your opinion. Do you think a supernatural creature, watching our interactions, would find that massage sufficiently romantic for our purposes?”

“I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how closely they’re watching us.”

Cas steps closer, “Are you worried?”

“What?”

“Are you worried we may need to be more overt,” Cas peers up at him, from so close he can feel the breath of his words, “Or physically affectionate?”

Dean’s having trouble pushing words out. “W-worried?” 

“What if, for example, if we had to kiss?” 

“I guess…if that’s what we had to do, you know, for the job, that’d be fine.”

“For the job. You think you could kiss me…for the job?”

“We’re hunters, Cas. We do what we have to, uh, do,” Cas’ eyes lock on Dean’s mouth, “to get the job done.” This is it, Dean thinks. He’s finally going to know what those pink lips feel like against his own. He watches Cas’ eyes as they close. His own eyes drop to half mast—

A loud knock sounds on the other side of the door. “Castiel, Dean,” Rosa’s voice calls. Dean jerks his head back. “The dressing rooms are available for you to change back into your clothes.”

Dean takes a step backward. He runs his hand over his face. Cas, when he speaks, sounds wrecked. “Thank you, Rosa. We’ll be right there.” He turns and opens the door. “After you, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what just happened.

* * *

Out in the sunshine, it’s easy to shake off the feeling that Cas was going to kiss him. That Cas _wanted_ to kiss him. Sure, Cas is willing to kiss him. Cas doesn’t have boundaries in a human sense. He isn’t morally opposed to kissing Dean, so why not? Dean ignores the way that thought lodges in his stomach unpleasantly.

They walk in silence. It’s not uncomfortable in spite of the direction of Dean’s thoughts. The sky is blue. The air is warm. The sounds of waves breaking and birds singing hover around them. Dean has Cas’ hand in his before he can think about it. Cas glances at their hands between them, then up at Dean, a small smile on his face.

“What’s our plan now?” Cas asks. Dean likes the way that sounds _our plan_ not _the plan_. Dean stops walking. Cas stops, turning his body to Dean, focusing his attention on him in a way that makes the back of Dean’s neck heat up traitorously.

“Well, I’ve got kind of a thing planned for later. Sammy’s helping with it.”

“Later?”

“Yeah. Like, 7. But nothing until then.”

“Ok,” Cas says slowly, waiting for more information. His lips are pressed into a straight line, watching Dean.

When Dean doesn’t provide any further information, Cas says, “What would you like to do now?”

Dean exhales loudly, relief filtering through every part of his body. “Uh, I guess we could just hang out. Poke around. Act, um…” Dean stops and starts, “look like a—“

Cas squeezes his hand. “Yes. All right.” 

Cas gets it. He always does. He gets angry at Dean, of course he does, because Dean can be a real asshole sometimes, but never about the things Dean can’t say. He never pushes or mocks or asks for something Dean can’t give. He’s so finely tuned to Dean’s emotions, that Dean wonders, sometimes, if Cas _knows_. If Cas can take one look at Dean and see the creepy-ass domestic fantasies he has, of Cas moving into the bunker permanently, of Dean making breakfast for him and Sam, of Cas staying. Just staying. At the bunker. With him.

Cas pulls at Dean’s hand until they’re walking again. Dean shakes himself out of it and follows obediently.

They walk by a cart filled with sunglasses and puka shell necklaces. Cas stops abruptly. Dean jerks to a stop beside him. Cas’ eyes scan the cart momentarily. He plucks up a bottle of sunscreen and hands it to the gangly teen working the cart. “Just this please.”

“That’ll be twenty dollars,” she says in a slow drawl.

“Dean, give her the money,” Cas says.

“Come on, Cas, that’s a fucking rip off.” Dean gestures at the teen, who nods in agreement.

Cas turns a steely glare on Dean. “Your future health is worth $20. Taking care of yourself is not optional.” Dean is aware his body is not having the appropriate reaction to that response, but before he can even berate himself for it, Cas has stepped close and slipped his arm around Dean and into his back pocket. He pulls out Dean’s wallet with a satisfied smile. He takes out the money and hands it over to the teen, who’s smiling at Dean like she knows exactly where Dean’s mind is.

“You boys have a nice afternoon,” she says, smile morphing into a smirk.

Dean frowns at her, but Cas pulls him away while tossing a sincere, “Thank you, we will,” over his shoulder. 

Once they’ve walked a few paces, Dean says, “‘Boys.’ Jesus. I’m old enough to be her father.” 

Cas laughs, “She was not having fatherly thoughts about you.” 

“Did you…were you,” Dean lowers his voice, “peeking?”

“I don’t need to read someone’s mind to recognize what someone is thinking while they undress you with their eyes.” 

“What? Gross. She was like 18, 19 at the most, that’s,” Dean is definitely not on board for that, but he can’t help a little flush of pride, “Ew. Bad touch.”

“You like it and you know it. You’re incorrigible.”

“I mean, who doesn’t like to be told they’re hot?” He makes outrageous finger guns at Cas. “I still got it.” Cas snorts. “But, yeah. No. I’m not…she’s, like, Claire’s age. Jesus. No. Not even remotely here for that. Must be over 25 to ride this ride.”

“Mmmmm,” Cas hums. “I’m older than humanity.” 

Dean laughs. He lifts Cas’ hand away from his side and kisses the back of his knuckles. “I guess that’s why we’re so happily married, honey,” he says over their joined hands. Dean’s embarrassment is worth it for the way Cas’ gums show and his nose crinkles up when he laughs at Dean’s stupidity.

They find two open lounge chairs on the beach. Cas pulls his shirt off. He drops it at the end of one of the chairs. Cas looks at him expectantly. Dean lifts his shirt off, ignoring Cas’ gaze. He balls the shirt up and tosses it next to Cas’. 

“Do you have a plan or are we just here to look pretty?” Dean doesn’t mean to be an asshole, but Cas won’t stop looking at him. Cas holds up the sunscreen. Dean rolls his eyes. He reaches for the bottle, but Cas brings it close to his body. “Come on, Cas. I can put on my own sunscreen.” 

Cas moves closer. “I understand this is a task significant others often perform for each other.” He throws a leg over the lounge chair so he’s straddling it. He indicates with his glance that he expects Dean to sit in front of him.

“Cas.” Cas raises one eyebrow. Dean sits. 

Dean hears a click and the sound of sunscreen being squeezed from the bottle. At first touch, the lotion chills his skin. His shoulders quickly heat under the friction of Cas’ hands. Cas uses his hands the way he did at the massage, but instead of deep pressure, they glide smoothly, back and forth, every inch of his back covered and recovered. Dean’s shoulders droop in relaxation. At his lower back Dean feels Cas’ fingers dip beneath the waistband just enough to assure he doesn’t miss a patch of exposed skin. 

Cas’ fingers sweep off his back, and Dean turns to grab the lotion to finish the job, but Cas has the bottle, squeezing more lotion into his hand. “Cas, I can do the rest.” 

Cas ignores him in favor of lifting one of Dean’s arms. A glance at Cas’ face tells Dean that Cas expects him to hold it in place. Cas scoots closer so he can speak directly in Dean’s ear, while massaging around his bicep in fluid strokes. “You could do it, but is there any reason that I, as your theoretical husband, shouldn’t do it?”

“It’s not…Uh, I mean…” Cas’ hand snakes down his arm, circling his wrist. “I guess…not.”

“Good.” Cas moves to the other arm, methodically covering every inch. “We are trying to make an impression, right?”

Dean manages a small sound of assent as Cas slips one lotion covered hand around his waist. Dean watches, transfixed, while Cas slides his hand in circular motions over his stomach. Dean’s stomach muscles clench with nerves. Cas’ hands are instantly hovering above his skin, not touching. 

“Is this ok?” Cas asks.

Dean looks down at Cas’ hands. _Is it ok?_ Dean doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to know if it’s ok for Cas’ hands to be on him like this. It feels…it feels great, if Dean’s honest with himself. But how is it going to feel next week? Next month? After the case is over and he and Cas go back to…whatever it is they are. 

“Dean?”

Dean decides abruptly to make that next-week-Dean’s problem. “Yeah. Yeah, Cas. It’s fine.” 

Cas’ hands resume their slow slide across his body. _Cas wants to make an impression, huh?_ Dean lets his body fall back against Cas while he works. He drops his head back on Cas’ shoulder, which earns him a very brief start and stop moment from Cas. Dean’s so close to Cas’ face that he feels it when Cas turns his head, putting his mouth close to Dean’s ear. “Do you think Sam is having any luck with the case?”

Dean’s gripped by the same slurry feeling he had during the massage. He wonders if it isn’t a good thing he and Cas aren’t…whatever they aren’t, because it is frighteningly clear from his body’s reaction to Cas’ hands on him, in any context evidently, that he’d let Cas do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. “Mmmmmayyyybe,” Dean manages finally. 

Cas snorts in his ear and runs both hands firmly down Dean’s ribs ending with a firm squeeze on his hips. Cas is clearly finished, but Dean feels so good that moving seems off the table. 

“Dean.”

“Uh huh?”

Cas huffs at his ear again. One arm encircles his chest, pulling them both backward as Cas leans back against his chair. Dean lets himself relax into Cas. It’s ok. They’re supposed to look like a couple. It’s just part of the case. 

* * *

Dean rubs his palms on his jeans. Sweat accumulates under his collar while he stares at himself in the mirror. White dress shirt: untucked, sleeves rolled up. Jeans: clean. Hair: managed. From his meager experience, he looks like someone about to go on a date. Which he is. Sort of. It may be under the guise of the case, but the fact is, Dean is about to take Cas out to dinner. A surprise, romantic dinner he more or less planned by himself. 

But first he has to leave the bathroom.

Dean braces himself with both hands on the sink. Deep breaths. “Hey, Cas, you decent out there?” Dean asks as he rounds the opening where a door should be.

“As you haven’t told me where we’re going, you need to be the judge,” Cas says, standing as Dean moves into the main room.

And, yeah, Dean is judging. The dark blue button-up Dean packed looks amazing on Cas. The two top buttons are open, and the sleeves rolled up. Cas couldn’t have done anything special to his hair, because Dean’s been hogging the bathroom, but it still looks amazing in an artfully tousled way.

“Well?” Cas finally asks.

“Um, awesome. I mean,” Dean stumbles over his answer, “that’s fine. How you’re dressed is fine.”

There’s a lengthy pause, then Cas replies, “I assume this is something we’re leaving the room for?”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean brushes past Cas awkwardly, only to stop once the door is open to let Cas through first. _Smooth, Winchester._

Dean knows approximately where they’re going, because Sam texted him the location, but he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He knows he’s in the right place when they arrive. An area larger than his bedroom in the bunker is scattered with candles set into glass jars tinted blue. There are a handful of thick bamboo poles tied together to create a loose structure, whose only purpose seems to be to have a place to dangle candles and a translucent gauze fabric, highlighting the seating beneath. There’s a rug covering the sand inside the decorative shelter. On the rug is a low table. Instead of chairs there are two large, soft looking pillows sitting side by side at the table. 

Dean jerks to a halt when Cas stops moving, but doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand. Cas’ eyes are wide staring straight ahead. “Is this,” Cas flicks his eyes to Dean for a second before going back to his deer-in-headlight look at the scene in front of him, “where we’re going?” 

Cas still has a death grip on his right hand, but Dean brings his left hand up to rub the sweat off the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah. That was the plan.” Dean watches Cas’ profile and the tight set of his shoulders. “Unless,” he squeezes Cas’ hand until Cas looks at him, “you don’t want to?”

“You planned this?” Cas asks.

There’s a moment where Dean considers denying it. Pawning it off as Sam’s idea, but, somehow, looking at Cas’ face, he can’t do it. “Yeah. I mean, I gave Sam the details and he made the arrangements.”

“Why did you have Sam make the arrangements?”

“I guess I was embarrassed. And I, this is going to sound stupid.” Cas’ doesn’t respond, only looks at him steadily, waiting. “I guess I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Cas’ eyes widen. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, “You succeeded.” Cas twists their joined hands until Dean’s hand is near his lips. Without looking away from Dean’s face, he kisses the back of Dean’s hand. Dean feels like he’s suspended in time, unable to properly respond. Cas narrows his eyes speculatively at Dean’s lack of response. That’s all Dean notices before those same lips brush his cheek. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Ok. Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Cas smiles at him. It’s the gummy one that Dean’s really fucking stupid for. 

Dean jumps at the sound of another voice, “Good evening Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester.” There’s a young man in a tuxedo walking toward them. When he gets close, he says, “Welcome to your private dinner. Right this way,” and leads Dean and Cas through the path of candles to the table and pillows.

He waits politely while Dean and Cas situate themselves on the pillows. It takes longer than it should because Cas neglects to let go of Dean’s hand. Once they’re nestled into the pillows, which turn out to have enough of a support inside that they can lean back comfortably, the young man says, “My name is Robert, I’ll be your server this evening. Your champagne is coming right up.”

“Thank you, Robert,” Cas says politely.

Cas turns and looks at Dean. “It’s beautiful here.”

Dean knows Cas means the beach, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Cas’ as he says, “Yeah. It is.”

Robert is back with a round tray holding two long, thin champagne glasses. He bends to place a glass in front of each of them.

Cas looks up at him and smiles. Dean almost laughs at the way the waiter flushes under that smile. _Same, dude, same_

Robert walks away, leaving Dean and Cas alone, still awkwardly holding hands, staring at their glasses of champagne. Dean squeezes Cas’ hand and lets go, using that hand to pick up the champagne in front of him. After a moment, Cas does the same.

“So, uh,” Dean starts, “since we have the champagne, I thought maybe we could,” _why is this so fucking hard_ , “have a toast.”

“What are we toasting?”

“Well, I mean, I know we’re here for this fucking case or whatever, but it’s been…nice…being here,” Dean clears his throat, “with you. You know, getting a chance to just hang out with my best friend, like, without an apocalypse hanging over our head, so thanks for helping to talk me into it, and, uh, thanks for whatever weird mojo you did on the plane to put me to sleep.”

Cas looks a little guilty at that, but also pleased. “I didn’t try to put you to sleep, per se. You didn’t want me to exert myself, so I used a small spell to grant you calm, but it only worked while you were in close proximity to me.”

“If it was a spell, why did you fall asleep on the plane?” Dean asks. He was so sure it was because Cas used his grace.

Cas hums thoughtfully, “You were so peaceful sleeping next to me. I was listening to your breathing and it was so different than usual-”

Dean interrupts, “Different than when you usually listen to me sleep?”

Cas rolls his eyes, “Not, lately, I believe you told me it was, what was the phrase? ‘Creepy as fuck.’ But before, when I didn’t understand how to give you what you needed, but wanted to.” Dean feels his skin heat up from his chest to the tip of his head at the sincerity in Cas’ voice. “You were never calm then, even in sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess spending time in Hell really messes with your zen,” Dean tries to joke.

“You had nightmares a lot then.”

“Um…”

“Sometimes I would try to ease them, just a little. I couldn’t do much without my superiors noticing, but I tried, when I could.”

Dean swallows, remembering Cas from before and having a hard time imagining him taking the time to soothe Dean’s nightmares, having a hard time reconciling that Cas, all righteous action and _I don’t serve you,_ with the Cas here with him now. “Thanks. For that. And for not telling me then, because I probably would have lost my shit.”

Cas laughs at that. Throws his head back and laughs until a single tear leaks out of his eye. He wipes it away and looks at Dean with a smile still tinged with hysteria. It’s the second time today Cas has laughed this hard. Dean knows he’s already addicted. “Yes. I imagine you might have.”

Dean pushes his arm gently, saying, “Ok. Fine. Whatever. But what does that have to do with you sleeping on the plane?”

Cas straightens up. “Oh, well, it was just nice. Listening to you. It was calming. I guess I let myself be lulled to sleep.” Cas doesn’t seem to find that statement odd or embarrassing, but Dean does.

He can’t help clarifying, “You fell asleep listening to me sleep?”

Cas shrugs.

“Ok,” Dean finally holds his glass up, “to…all that stuff.”

“Yes,” Cas says simply, wrinkling his nose, “to that stuff.”

Their glasses make a gentle tinkling sound when they touch. They watch each other while they sip the champagne. Dean laughs when Cas coughs at the bubbles.

“Maybe champagne’s not your thing,” Dean says between laughs.

“I don’t know. There are many things that weren’t my thing a few years ago, that I’ve,” Cas pauses, “developed a taste for.”

Dean doesn’t want to examine why that makes his heart stutter.

Robert returns with two plates. “Your appetizers,” he says as he sets them down. They’re delicate plates with scalloped edges, but sitting in the middle of each is a soft pretzel with dipping cup of mustard.

Cas looks at him with soft eyes. Dean knows he’s blushing. “You really seemed to dig those the other day.”

They work through their pretzels until they’re both staring at empty plates. Robert returns to take away the plates. He goes and returns quickly with two plates full of bacon cheeseburgers and fries. The last thing he sets down is two bottles of beer. 

Cas starts on the burger tentatively, but by the time he’s halfway through it, he’s stuffing it into his face as enthusiastically as the pretzel. They both still have a few fries left, but they let Robert take their plates when he returns. 

Up until now they’ve avoided talking about the case. It’s not like they’re getting anywhere on it anyway. However, all good things must come to an end. “I was thinking,” Cas says, “we haven’t been able to find any new information on the case. And we haven’t yet been targeted.” Cas rubs both palms on his legs. “Perhaps we need a more aggressive plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps we are not,” Cas winces before he says, “convincing enough.” Cas looks up at Dean quickly, “Although this dinner was lovely. I’m sure it couldn’t have been more well planned for our purposes.”

“Thanks. I think?” Dean replies, not really sure where Cas is going with this.

Cas opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Instead he stands enough to move his pillow even closer to Dean’s.

Dean’s mouth is dry, but he croaks out, “Oh.”

Cas sits with his body angled toward Dean. He’s close. He’s really fucking close. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

It’s not an order, but it’s enough of one to set Dean’s skin aflame. “Because of the case?”

Cas makes a noncommittal noise, never taking his eyes off Dean. Dean is sweating now, but Cas looks so calm. He brings one palm up to Dean’s face, cradling his jaw. The softness of his hold is at odds with the sharp focus of his gaze. “Do you want to kiss me, Dean?”

Dean’s doing his best to hide the ragged edge to his breathing. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to answer that. Cas’ lips look warm, flushed and pink, and fuck yeah he wants to kiss them, but is that what Cas is asking?

Cas’ thumb brushing over his cheek, snaps Dean back into the moment, eyes jerking guiltily up to Cas’ eyes. Cas smiles when Dean meets his eyes. That smile more than anything pushes Dean to move. Whatever this means for Cas, solving the case or his own reasons, Cas is happy to do it. Sometimes Cas tries to give him things he doesn’t deserve, and this may be one of those times, but he’s willing, just this once, to take what Cas is offering.

Dean slips his hand around Cas’ neck. His fingers tuck into the hair at the base of Cas’ head. Cas’ eyes flutter closed and his lips part on a small exhale. Cas’ hand on his face urges him forward. It feels like slow motion as he moves toward Cas until his lips are under Dean’s. Everything else drops away as he presses closer. The sound of the ocean, the breeze, Robert, presumably standing close enough to see if they need anything, are all subsumed by the feeling of Cas’ lips finally, _finally_ on his. 

For a suspended moment their lips are pressed close, but unmoving. Dean sighs into Cas’ parted lips and takes what he wants. A broken groan from Cas breaks the silence and Cas moves his hand from Dean’s cheek to take a firm hold on the back of Dean’s head. Cas other hand lands on Dean’s thigh, gripping him tightly just above his bent knee. Dean’s fingers ache from the effort of holding back their exploration, but this is for the case and Cas just asked for a kiss. Dean redoubles his efforts with the kiss until they’re both shaking. Dean pulls away from the kiss, but rests his forehead against Cas’ and just breathes him in. Cas’ one hand is still pressed into his thigh and the other is splayed over his scalp, grasping at hair too short to be captured. Dean focuses on his breathing until the rest of the world starts to filter back in. 

He and Cas seem to notice it at the same moment, if Cas’ abrupt change of posture means anything. They both lift their heads to look toward the sound. About 6 feet from the table, a small man with a guitar is playing an acoustic version of “Ramble On.” Dean recognizes the song as being about half over, which means they’ve had an audience for a while. Dean rubs his hand over his face and peeks at Cas. He almost laughs at Cas’ bewildered expression. “Uh. Surprise!”

Cas looks between Dean and the man with the guitar a few times before finally settling on Dean. His nose scrunches in the way Dean is starting to associate with hysterical laughter. He drops his head into both hands and his shoulders shake until Dean starts to get a little worried. After a moment he taps him on the shoulder, “Cas? Buddy?”

Cas looks up sharply, with something unidentifiable in his gaze. “I think you should kiss me again.”

“Yeah. Ok. That’s…I can do that.”

* * *

Dean’s lips feel bruised from all the kissing, but now, walking back to the room, he’s as unsure of Cas’ intentions as he was the first time Cas said they should kiss. Cas’ kisses weren’t shy and they felt, _Jesus_ , Dean’s not even sure there are words for how good they felt, but the unwritten rule to keep it PG might as well have been flashing over Cas’ head with the way he rigidly controlled his hands. Head, neck, and shoulders seemed to be allowed. Knee and directly above the knee were ok too. Dean’s pretty sure he has some bruises in the shape of Cas’ fingers on his thigh and that shouldn’t be so hot, but he feels his whole body flush at the idea of finding out.

Beside him, Cas stops. “Dean.”

Dean turns to face him. “Yeah?” His voice is higher than he’d like to admit.

“Stop thinking.” Cas reaches out and tugs at an arm. Dean looks down and realizes he has both hands firmly shoved into his pockets. Cas continues tugging until one hand is out. He laces their fingers together. Personal space seems to be a concept they eradicated on this trip, but Cas steps even closer. “May I kiss you?”

“Cas, that’s not…you don’t…” Dean tries not to fidget under Cas’ stare, “Yeah. You can kiss me.”

The hand that’s not entwined with Dean’s comes up to his face. Fingertips ghost along his jaw. He traces one finger along Dean’s bottom lip, there and gone. Dean’s surprised his skin isn’t crackling with electricity everywhere Cas is touching him. The kiss, when it comes, is nothing like the kisses on the beach. It’s barely there, only half at the corner of his lips, more of a breath and a touch, almost like a promise of something rather than a kiss. Dean exhales loudly when Cas pulls away.

“Let’s go back to the room,” Cas says into the heated air between them. That sounds like a promise too, but Dean doesn’t know if it’s a promise of more, more kisses, more _more_ , or a promise that things will get back to normal when they can drop this act. Not for the first time, Dean wonders why he can’t just tell Cas how he feels. This would all be a lot less confusing.

He barks a little laugh, and enjoys Cas’ pleased reaction before he says, “OK,” and pulls Cas along the path.

For the rest of the walk Dean’s able to stay out of his head. He focuses on the feel of Cas’ hand. _That’s real. And awesome._ Whatever happens, he’s gotten a whole lot more than he ever would have expected. Maybe that will make things weird later, but even if it blows up in his face, he’s not sure he could give it up.

Nerves start creeping back in as they approach the bungalow. Cas seems to sense it, because he disentangles their hands so he can bring his hand up to Dean’s neck in a soothing gesture. Dean has the key out, but he’s suddenly struck with fear that this is his last opportunity to kiss Cas. He has no idea if things have changed or not. 

Cas looks at him curiously. Dean leans in and kisses him. Cas makes a pleased noise under him and grabs Dean’s shoulders. This kiss feels different too. Dean can’t believe there are this many different ways to feel about kissing Cas. He wants them all. He’s greedy for it. He notices his own hands are at Cas’ waist and pulls him closer. The noise Cas makes at that is very satisfying. Less satisfying is the way Cas pulls away. Dean is shocked by the whining noise that comes from his own mouth. Cas puts one finger on his lips. “This would be easier inside.”

Dean swallows. That sounds…he think it sounds…

Cas grabs the key and opens the door, leaving Dean hovering on the doorstep.

When Cas notices Dean’s indecision he reaches out and pulls Dean in behind him. Dean has just enough independent thought left to shut the door as he goes. 

Neither of them move, suspended just inside the door. If Dean’s insides didn’t feel like they were about to melt, he would laugh at the way Cas is looking at him, like he’s afraid Dean’s about to bolt. It bolsters his nerves. Cas doesn’t need to baby him. Dean’s not going to run from whatever this is, because bolting means leaving Cas behind, and if that was ever an option, it’s not anymore. The thought makes him reckless. “What is this, Cas?”

“I’m not sure how to make myself any clearer, Dean. Will you let me show you?”

“Show me what?”

“Show you how I feel.”

“Uh…”

“All you have to do is listen. And if you agree, do what I ask.”

“I…” Dean doesn’t even know if Cas is talking about sex, but his body obviously thinks he is, as blood rushes south. “Ok.”

Cas face lights up, “Good.”

Dean shudders. “I just need to, you know,” he gestures to the bathroom.

“Of course,” Cas says placidly. 

Dean escapes to the relative safety of the bathroom to quietly lose his shit alone. And also piss. He wasn’t lying about that. He brushes his teeth to gain more time to pull himself together. When he looks at himself in the mirror he thinks, _this is it_.

Cas is on the porch. The tub is gradually filling with steaming water. Dean walks outside. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, like this is a beginning. Maybe it is.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean replies, because he said he’d let Cas drive the bus, and he can do that.

Cas’ eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I’m ready, buddy.”

Cas’ eyes narrow. “Rule number one, I think, is that you may not call me buddy any more tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Dean asks, his voice sounding more normal than he feels.

Cas hums. “After tonight, I suppose it’s your decision.”

Dean opens his mouth, but all the comes out is a vague noise.

“I want to undress you. May I?”

Dean wonders if it is possible to catch fire from the inside out. He takes a breath to ensure his answer doesn’t come out shaky. “Sure.”

As soon as his agreement is out, Cas’ fingers are on his shirt. He drags his palms firmly down Dean’s chest and up his ribs. It’s half sexual and half grounding and Dean’s not sure he’s going to survive whatever Cas plans to do with him. He watches Cas’ fingers deftly undo each button. When his shirt is open, Cas repeats the same motion on bare skin, running his palms up Dean’s ribs, then down his chest. Dean’s nipples harden under the contact, and Dean draws in a quick breath. 

Cas watches Dean and repeats the motion. Dean clenches his abs at the sensation. Cas smiles, and says softly, “Good.” It’s so quiet Dean’s not even sure he’s meant to hear it, but it turns his insides to jelly just the same.

Cas’ hands rest on the button of Dean’s jeans. He waits for Dean to look at him before he moves to unbutton them. There’s an eternity while Cas draws down the zipper. Dean would be embarrassed by the erection straining underneath if he could pay attention to anything other than Cas’ huge hands and capable fingers.

Cas frowns down at Dean’s feet before kneeling to untie his shoes. He slips off the first shoe, looking up at Dean through long lashes. Dean has to close his eyes against the shock of arousal that shoots through him. Cas moves to remove the other shoe and says, “You like this.” Dean opens his eyes and looks down. “Me, on my knees, worshiping you.”

“Cas…”

“I know because I liked it.” Cas slips off the shoe. “That first day. When you took off my shoes and rolled up my pants,” Cas’ hand cups the back of his calf and squeezes, “I didn’t want you to stop touching me. I wanted to command you to worship me…completely.”

Dean doesn’t think it’s possible for him to get off from nothing but dirty talk, but his dick is pulsing with want and it’s a near thing. “Shit. Cas. Fuck.” His hands twitch at his side. He wants to grab Cas’ hair and pull his head where he wants it. 

“Look at you. So good.” Cas stands slowly, dragging his hand up the back of Dean’s leg as he goes. “So patient.” 

Dean grits his teeth against the need to beg Cas for something. Anything. 

“So perfect.” Cas pushes down Dean’s jeans and boxers and coaxes Dean’s barely functional limbs out of them. 

Dean doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until he opens them when he can’t feel Cas’ body heat anymore.

Cas is at the tub turning off the water and running his hand through the bath to check the temperature. “I’d like you to get in the tub, while I get some things. Would you do that for me?”

Dean blushes at the ‘for me’ but nods his head jerkily.

Cas steps back into his space. He puts a hand on Dean’s cheek, looks into his eyes with a serious expression, and says, “Thank you.”

Dean can’t help the snort that escapes. Cas’ nose crinkles in response. Cas uses the hand on Dean’s face to pat him firmly on the cheek twice, before he turns and walks back into the room.

Dean takes a deep breath through his nose and blows it out through his mouth before stepping into the tub. He groans the entire time he lowers himself into the water. The tension he’s been carrying drains out of him. He drops his head to the back of the tub. He opens his eyes when he hears Cas’ footsteps on the porch. Cas has that worshipful look in his eyes again, so Dean says, “Don’t say it.”

Cas looks startled for a moment, but then his eyes narrow and get all smite-y. “Don’t say what?”

“You know, ‘so good’, ‘perfect’. Whatever, like I did something special by getting in the bathtub.” Dean knows it’s some dumb part of him actively working to sabotage himself, because he doesn’t want to admit how his body reacts to Cas’ praise, but some habits die hard.

Cas only looks at him thoughtfully. “I have a second rule for you.” He walks forward until he’s standing over Dean in the tub.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, and his dick, which had wilted under his anxiety perks back up traitorously. “Oh, uh, ok. What is it?”

“You are not allowed to protest when I compliment you. When I tell you how I feel about you, I will not be contradicted. Can you do that?”

In the war between embarrassment and arousal, arousal seems to be winning. Cas’ eyes are locked on his and Dean can’t look away. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before he speaks and watches Cas track the movement. “Yeah. Yes. Ok. I can…I can do that.”

“Good.” Dean closes his eyes and lets his head fall back again. Cas fingers card through his hair. “Just relax.” 

He hears Cas moving around, but keeps his eyes closed. He focuses on the vague sense of arousal and anticipation coursing through him instead of the anxiety of facing the unknown, of wondering what this means for tomorrow.

Cas’ fingers are back in his hair. “Dean.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas has the fancy bath sponge from the main bathroom. He doesn’t ask permission, but he moves slowly, telegraphing his movements to give Dean time to object. One of Cas’ hands dips into the water, skimming over his leg until he grips the back of Dean’s calf and pulls his leg out enough to carefully lather it up with the sponge. Cas gently lowers Dean’s leg back into the water and moves to the other leg. Dean is profoundly embarrassed and achingly hard. The experience is confusing in a way he could not have predicted. 

The slow drag of the sponge against his skin is lighting him on fire. “When I first saw you, after I rebuilt your body, I felt a satisfaction so visceral,” rinse, “I thought it must be a sin.” Cas takes his right arm and lowers it in the water before raising it up to swipe the sponge from Dean’s shoulder to his fingertips. “At first I thought it was the sin of pride at the perfection of my workmanship. I discounted that, as I was only recreating what my father had bestowed upon you. Later I wondered if it was greed,” the other arm, “because I didn’t want to share you with heaven.” 

Cas moves behind his head and pushes at his shoulders, encouraging Dean to dip below the water to wet his hair, “Now I recognize it wasn’t a sin. It was potential.” Cas pauses while he soaps up Dean’s hair. Strong fingers massage the shampoo into his hair. Dean tries to make sense of Cas’ words. 

“While your grace and my soul were entwined I recognized something inside you that had the potential to change something inside me.” Cas pushes him under the water again, rubbing his hands through his submerged hair to rinse it, before gently tugging him back up.

“I wasn’t wrong.” Cas moves back to the side of the tub, hand dipping under the water to smooth over Dean’s skin. “Every minute I’ve spent with you since I raised you from hell has changed me.” Cas watches his hand trail up the inside of Dean’s thigh. Dean grips the sides of the tub to hold still. “Every time you look at me, you change me.” 

One finger slides next to Dean’s balls and up the crease where his leg joins his hip. “Shit, Cas. Please,” Dean begs.

Cas catches Dean’s gaze and holds it. One hand is pressed to Dean’s stomach and the other reaches up to grip Dean’s hair. “Every time you make me so angry I want to scream,” the hand on Dean’s stomach encircles his dick, “every time you devastate me with your kindness….” Dean arches under Cas’ firm strokes. He knows he’s making noises he’ll be embarrassed about later, but he’s beyond caring. “Every time you throw yourself in harm’s way to protect the earth, I am changed.” Cas leans forward until his mouth is near Dean’s ear. “In this moment, with your pleasure in my hands, I am changed.” Cas’ breath on his ear makes him shudder. “I’ll tell you a secret, Dean, one thing that will never change.” Dean’s whole body is a live wire, tense and waiting as Cas strokes him faster. Cas pulls back, turning Dean’s head by his hair to face him before saying, “I love you.”

Dean’s body goes rigid. His eyes slam shut as his orgasm rips out of him unexpectedly. Cas strokes him through it, letting go when Dean finally opens his eyes. “Fuck. Cas.”

Cas other hand releases his hair to cradled his jaw. “Is that clear enough?”

Dean surges up to kiss him. Water sloshes out of the tub. Dean gets both hands in Cas’ shirt and yanks him closer. “Yeah, Cas. It’s fucking clear enough,” Dean says between biting along Cas’ jaw. Dean kisses down onto Cas’ collarbone. “Shit. Why are you still fucking dressed? Jesus, Cas.” 

Dean shoves Cas back just enough to climb out of the tub. Cas’ shirt is already soaked. Dean ignores the water dripping off his body to unbutton Cas’ shirt and push it off his shoulders. Cas lets himself be maneuvered to stand in front of the nearby chair. In spite of Cas’ declarations of his feelings, Dean is gratified by the bulge he finds as he works Cas’ pants down. He gets Cas’ pants halfway down before pushing Cas back into the chair. Once Cas is sitting, Dean yanks them the rest of the way off. 

Dean takes a moment to look at Cas sprawled on the chair underneath him, but the temptation is too strong to wait. Dean drops to his knees between Cas’ spread legs. Cas’ eyes are wide. “Dean, you don’t-“ Dean shoves two fingers against Cas’ mouth.

“Shut up, Cas.” 

Dean waits for Cas’ nod before removing his fingers. He places a hand on each of Cas’ thighs. There are a million things he could do, but they’re going to have to wait, because he’s going directly to the top of the list. He leans down to lick a stripe up Cas’ dick, before taking the head in his mouth. Dean moans with pleasure when he feels Cas thighs tremble under his hands. This is no time for finesse, so Dean just applies himself, mouth and tongue, adding a hand to pull Cas over the edge as fast as possible. 

It doesn’t take long before Cas cries, “Dean, Dean,” and tugs at his hair. Dean ignores him in favor of redoubling his efforts. Cas comes with Dean’s name on his lips. When Cas stops pulsing into his mouth, Dean pulls off. He slumps against Cas’ thigh and stares up at him. Cas looks stunned and gorgeous. Dean smiles at how thoroughly fucked out he looks.

Cas reaches out and touches Dean’s lips gently. He’s still caressing them when he says, “Wow.”

The laughter bubbles out of Dean until his shoulders are shaking. He climbs off the floor still laughing and pulls Cas up with him. Dean drags Cas to the bed and under the covers. Dean arranges himself comfortably around Cas, arms and legs hopelessly entwined, and promptly falls asleep.


	6. Plunder the village

Dean’s floating. There’s a confusion about where he is, but he’s not anxious. Cas is with him. He’s safe. He feels threads of distant arousal tugging at his consciousness. _Am I dreaming?_ Images from the night before spark behind his eyelids. _I am dreaming. Was last night a dream?_ His limbs are heavy, but sounds are filtering in, bringing Dean out of his sleepy haze. There are wet sounds and low moans. Dean awakens surprised to discover the moans are his own. The arousal that was a distant tugging, becomes a consuming reality when he opens his eyes. Cas is between his legs looking focused and gorgeous. When Dean’s breath hitches, Cas lifts his head, letting Dean’s erection slip from his lips. _I guess last night wasn’t a dream._ Cas smiles as if he is listening to Dean’s thoughts. Maybe he is. Dean doesn’t care, hopes his is, hopes he knows all the things Dean has kept hidden for too long. 

Cas dips his head to place a chaste kiss at the head of Dean’s cock. His whole body shudders at the contact and Dean wants to laugh at the absurdity of being undone by that kiss considering he just woke up to his dick in Cas’ mouth, but Cas is looking at him again and he’s frozen until Cas says simply, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answers, “Don’t let a little thing like my consciousness stop you.”

Dean feels the puff of air when Cas’ presses forehead to Dean’s hip and makes an embarrassed noise. When he looks up again, he says, “I woke up and there you were, laid out like an offering. I was just looking, and then I wasn’t just looking, and then you started making these noises, and…I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”  
  
Dean’s fingers find Cas’ hair and tug. When he has Cas’ complete attention he says, “Whatever you want. Whenever you want it.” Something hot and possessive flashes in Cas’ eyes. Dean watches Cas blink it away, but Dean’s finding a way to explore that later. “But definitely this,” Dean bucks his hips up enough that his erection nudges Cas in the face, “now.”

Cas eyes do that thing again and arousal speeds through Dean before Cas gets his mouth on him, but then he does, and Dean’s mind goes blissfully blank. He’s still only half awake, so he lets himself sink into the bed and just take it until there’s nothing but heat and suction and white noise between his ears. He tugs at Cas hair in warning. Cas pops off, straddling his legs and working him through his orgasm with his hand. 

When he comes back to himself, Cas is in his lap with one hand rubbing the spunk on Dean’s chest. Dean starts to lift himself up to protest with a half-hearted, “Gross,” but Cas pushes him down with his other hand. He looks a little wild and a lot hot and Dean’s not sure where this is going, but he thinks he likes it.

“No. Don’t move.” Cas takes the come covered hand and starts jacking himself hard. Dean wants to help, but Cas told him not to move. He’s not sure there’s anything Cas could ask him to do right at the moment that wouldn’t get complete obedience. Maybe he should worry about that, but not while Cas bends over him, feral with want, and comes over all over his chest. Dean wrinkles his nose, but Cas places one finger of the hand that had been holding him down over his lips. With the other he runs his fingers through their mingling come, eventually tracing out what Dean can only tell is an enochian sigil. 

“What’s it say?” Dean asks when his voice comes back to him.

If Cas is surprised that Dean realized he was writing something, he doesn’t say. He leans his weight back on Dean’s thighs and looks at him. He cocks his head to the side and takes a moment before he answers, slow and deep, “Mine.”

Dean can feel his chest flush until it must be splotchy and red. There are a lot of things he wants to say, but all that comes out is, “Yeah. Ok, champ. Now clean me up.”

Cas’ head is still tilted as he considers Dean’s chest. “As you wish.” He leans over and starts licking Dean’s chest clean.

“That’s not what I me—“ Dean cuts off as Cas starts sucking bruises into his skin as he goes. “Jesus. Ok, fine, have it…have it your way.”

Cas looks up at him with serious eyes, “Yes.”

Cas goes back to work and Dean lies still and tries to refrain from moaning to preserve at least the shreds of his dignity. When he’s finished, Cas arranges Dean in his arms and pulls the covers over them both. His fingers card through Dean’s hair until all thought of getting out of bed leaves him. He’s almost asleep when he hears Cas whisper, “I’m sorry I woke you up so early.”

Dean laughs into Cas’ chest, and slurs, “Yeah, that was terrible don’t do that again.” 

Cas palms the back of Dean’s head and kisses his hair. If he says anything else, Dean doesn’t hear it because he’s asleep.

* * *

The next time Dean wakes up is less pleasant. There’s some banging, some shouting, a large body pushing through the door, and then a scandalized baby brother with a knife in one hand, frozen above him hissing, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DEAN?”

Dean’s sleep fog brain takes a few seconds to process the scene. He and Cas are both still naked, a fact he might be embarrassed about if the look on Sam’s face weren’t so priceless. The sheets are rucked up around them, covering just enough to spare Sam’s delicate sensibilities, but not much else. Sam’s eyes dart around the room, eventually narrowing when they land on the porch, where Dean knows their clothes are laying in a tangled heap. 

Dean looks over at Cas who is glaring at Sam while protectively clutching Dean to his body. _Jesus, I need to be more awake for this._ Sam’s still staring out onto the porch, so Dean risks a small kiss to Cas’ chest before pushing himself up out of his grasp. Looking down at Cas, Dean takes a moment to curse his brother for ruining his first chance to wake up to the sight of Cas spread out in his bed. Sam’s eyes snap back to Dean at his movement. “You think you want to put that knife down now, Sam?”

Sam clenches his fist around the knife, lowering it, but not putting it away. “I don’t know. Maybe you want to tell me what the hell is going on.” 

Dean makes an aborted look around for something to cover himself with before he stands. His only nearby option is to pull the sheets off Cas, which he’s not willing to do. _Oh well. It’s not like it’s anything Sam hasn’t seen._ He slips out of the bed and turns to face Sam. Dean notes Sam’s gaze sweeping his chest and how his mouth pulls into a tight line at the sight of the multiple purpling bruises Cas left on his skin. Sam’s unhappy glare doesn’t escape Cas either, who stands up and places himself naked between Sam and Dean.

“Can everyone calm the fuck down?” Dean says before he stomps off to the dresser to grab a t-shirt and boxers. He slips them on before throwing a second set at Cas. “This is ridiculous. Cas, get dressed. Sam, stop acting like a jealous boyfriend and put your knife away.”

Cas doesn’t move, still watching Sam carefully. Sam frowns at Dean and says, “Gross,” while slipping his knife into the back of his pants.

Dean shrugs, “If the shoe fits. What the hell is going on?”

Sam’s mouth drops open. “You’re,” he splutters, gaze flicking from Dean to Cas repeatedly, “asking me what’s going on?”

Dean’s eyebrows raise. “You’re the one who busted down the door and,” Dean looks at Cas, “Cas, please get dressed.” He keeps his eyes on Cas until he moves to collect the clothes Dean threw at him. Once he’s sure Cas is going to comply he turns back to Sam, “and glared at Cas like he plundered the village. What gives?”

“Did he?” Sam asks.

“Did he what?”

“Plunder the village?”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“I call for hours and get no response and then I find my very heterosexual brother and his asexual angel in flagrante delicto…Dean you’ve got bruises all over…so, yeah, I’m wondering what’s going on.”

“First of all, we weren’t in flagrante anything. We were asleep. Second, I didn’t get any phone calls. Third, it’s called bisexual, college boy, look it up. Fourth, we didn’t bust down your door and have sex on your bed, so I don’t see how it’s any of your business. Fifth,” Dean stops for a breath and really looks at Sam for the first time, “Are you bleeding?”

“What? Maybe?” Sam looks down at his arm, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Ok, your turn. What the hell happened? Wait, sit down, I’m gonna get something to clean that up.”

“I don’t see how it’s my turn when you haven’t actually answered my question yet,” Sam says, but he finds a chair and sinks down into it. Dean walks to the bathroom to get supplies.

When Dean returns Cas is leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed in front of him. He asks Sam, “Why did you think I was asexual?”

Sam has the grace to looked chagrined. “I don’t know. I just assumed, and I thought…I know you and Dean have always been…whatever…and I thought Dean was, and I didn’t think you…I don’t know. I mean, with the dinner I thought Dean wanted to…but it never occurred to me that you two might…It was stupid.”

Cas looks thoughtful, but he just nods. Dean walks over to Sam and kneels beside him to disinfect his cut. “You want to tell me how you got this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my backup was too busy fucking to answer the phone.”

Dean jabs at the wound roughly and Sam hisses. “We weren’t,” Dean clenches his teeth, “too busy fucking. Cas, would you bring me my phone?” Cas nods and pushes off the dresser. “I think it’s in my pants.”

“Looks like that’s the only thing you kept in your pants.”

Dean finishes bandaging Sam’s arm, before pushing it back into Sam’s lap and saying, “Are we gonna have a problem over this? I didn’t peg you for a bigot.”

Sam looks up at Dean with wide eyes, “You think _that’s_ why I’m mad? Because you’re gay…” at Dean’s raised eyebrows he amends, “bisexual…whatever?”

“You’re not giving me much else to go on, Sam.”

Sam’s voice is sad when he answers, “Were you ever going to tell me? It’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think? How could you not tell me?”

Cas walks back in with Dean’s phone and hands it over without a word. Dean scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. His knees crack when he stands. “Ok, Sam. Not that my sex life is any of your business, but this,” Dean gestures between himself and Cas, “just happened last night. We would have told you. The whole breaking into our room and waiving a knife around kinda got in the way.”

Sam snorts. “Sorry,” Sam says, and then, “Ohhh.” He looks between them. “Last night was the first time you…and then I,” he makes a motion like a serial killer, “oh my god. I’m so sorry. I should,” he stands up, “go. Yeah, I should, you two should… OK. I’ll,” Sam pats down his pants like he’s looking for his wallet, “go. And catch you up at,” he looks at his watch, “lunch? Maybe 1?” He’s halfway to the door, “I’m happy for you guys. And, don’t worry about the case. It’s closed.” He opens the door. “Ok. Bye.” His hand waves through the door before he closes it behind him.

Cas turns to him and says, “Your phone’s dead.”

Dean laughs when he pulls Cas in for a kiss, but he’s not laughing by the time Cas presses him back into bed.

* * *

They make it to lunch by 1. Sam is already at a table. He’s got a book in front of him, but his leg is jiggling and he looks up every few seconds scanning the crowd for Dean and Cas. Dean laughs, but Cas stops him with a hand on his arm. “Be nice,” Cas chides.

Dean looks back at Sam and sighs. “Yeah, ok.” Sam jumps up when he sees them. He waves them over like they might not have noticed him. _This is gonna be awkward party of 3._ Cas tightens his grip on Dean’s hand in warning. “I didn’t say anything.” Cas doesn’t bother to contradict him.

“So, how are…things?” Sam asks, trying to stifle his earnest grin.

“Oh my god. How long are you going to be like this?” Dean asks. Cas kicks his shin under the table. Dean lifts his palms toward Cas, and mouthes “What?”

Cas lays his hand over Dean’s and asks, “Dean, I’d like to talk to Sam alone for 15 minutes. Would that be ok?” Dean doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes land on their joined hands or his sappy smile. _Jesus, maybe it would be better to let him get it out of his system with Cas._

“Sure. I’ll, uh, be back in a bit.”

Dean skulks off behind the restaurant to find a bench facing the ocean. Dean’s fight or flight kicks in when he imagines what Sam might be asking or Cas might be offering. He fires off a terse prayer, “Leave the sex out of it, dude.” 

After about 10 minutes he can’t sit still any longer. He walks around to the path they came from, where he knows there’s a good angle for observing without being seen. Cas and Sam are leaned in close together. He can tell from their body language they’re speaking quietly. Sharing information between just the two of them. Something loosens in his chest. Cas covers his eyes and says something that makes his ears pink. Sam tosses his head back and laughs loud enough for Dean to hear it. He claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas smiles shyly at Sam. As much as he’s enjoying his voyeuristic foray, he can’t resist rejoining them.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into his seat, “am I allowed back?”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says.

“Hey, man,” Sam starts, “I’m sorry about this morning. I was just worried. And surprised. Aaaand a little freaked out about seeing so much of you both.”

“Sorry about my phone,” Dean offers, because he’s not going to apologize for being naked in his own bed.

“Sam, you said the case was closed. I assume that has something to do with the wound on your arm?” Cas asks.

“Oh, yeah, right, so—“ Sam is interrupted by the waiter arriving to take their orders.

Once their orders are in, Sam fills them in on the details of the case. Dean zones out about the time Cas reaches over and puts his hand on his thigh. He watches Cas listen to Sam. Whatever happened requires a lot of gesticulation from Sam and serious nods from Cas. He occasionally grunts when his response seems required. Once Cas starts stroking up the inside of his thigh, he goes silent. 

Dean’s jolted back to attention when Cas’ strong fingers dig sharply into his thigh. He looks up at Sam. 

“I said, I guess that’s it. I can arrange the flights back for tomorrow.” 

“Oh.” Dean feels a little pang at the wasted time he and Cas spent dancing around each other. “Sure.”

“Or,” Cas drops into the quiet after Dean’s unenthusiastic agreement, “Dean and I could stay. Just for a few days. If you wouldn’t mind, Sam.”

“Oh. Uh. Actually. That’s a good idea. I’ve been thinking about making a visit out to see Jody.” A slight flush to the tip of Sam’s ears is the only thing that gives him away, but Dean suspects that crush has been simmering a while. He wonders if Jody even knows.

“Sure, Sam. Sounds awesome. Can you arrange us staying through the end of the week?”

“Yeah.” Sam pushes his hair back off his face. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Awesome,” Dean says.

“Well,” Sam says standing up, “I’m exhausted. I’m just gonna go,” he motions in a direction, “get things settled and pack up. You crazy kids have fun.”

Dean stands up and snags Sam’s shirt between his fingers as he passes. He pulls him into a quick hug. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, Dean. No problem. I’ll text the flight information. See you in a few days.”

Sam is going out of his way to be nice, so there’s no explanation that’s not _Dean’s an asshole_ for why he gives Sam a lascivious wink and says, “Say hi to Jody for us.” 

Sam deploys a spectacular bitch face and flips them off as he walks away.

Dean’s still laughing when he looks back at Cas. Cas’ face is serious though. “You were supposed to be nice.” 

“I was nice. Mostly.”  
  
Cas crowds him against the table. “Has anyone ever told you, you should learn some manners?”

Dean licks his lips and watches Cas’ eyes follow the movement. “Maybe. I’ve never been good at doing what people tell me.”

Cas is standing a little too close and pushing a few too many buttons for early afternoon in a public place, so Dean swallows against the arousal taking over. Cas’ gaze roves over Dean’s face. “I disagree. With proper motivation I think you could be very good at following direction.”

Dean takes a breath, so his voice doesn’t shake. “Yeah?”

Cas leans closer, ghosting his agreement over Dean’s lips, “Definitely.”  
  
“You wanna go test that theory out?”

Cas pulls back enough to look Dean in the eyes, “Yes.”

“Ok. Let’s,” Dean pushes at Cas to get him moving in the right direction, “let’s do that.” 

Cas snorts a laugh, but lets Dean continue pushing him in the right direction. “I might be wrong. You might be a hopeless case.”  


Dean stops pushing. “Aww. Don’t give up on me yet, Cas, we haven’t even tried…”

Cas grips Dean’s face in his hands, and kisses him breathless. “Never.”

Dean knows with absolute certainty that when Cas says he’ll never give up on Dean, he means it literally. It’s scary and exhilarating, empowering and humbling, all at once. For once, Dean doesn’t feel the need to run or to fight. He’s right where he wants to be.


End file.
